A Lot of Trouble
by Leslie Rampey
Summary: Remember Judith Sandler, the art restorer from the episode "Survivor?" Well, she's out of prison, and who does she run smack into but the cop who arrested her -- Det. Lennie Briscoe.
1. Chapter One

Summary: _Remember Judith Sandler, the art restorer from the episode "Survivor?" Well, she's out of prison, and who does she run smack into but the cop who arrested her -- Det. Lennie Briscoe._

A LOT OF TROUBLE

Chapter One

            "I'm not sure I should let you stay," teased Judith Sandler as she was sitting on Lennie's lap with her fingers laced at the back of his neck.  "You're practically a stranger.  Maybe we're going to need to start courting all over again."

            "I know, I know – it's been really crazy.  I think the city homicide rate has gone up 10% in just the last two weeks.  But court you all over again?  _That_ I couldn't go through."

            Judith flinched inwardly, as not so long ago she had contributed to that rate, but she decided to concentrate on his latter comment instead.  "We were one for the books, weren't we?" she chuckled.

            "Babe, we still are one for the books – Guinness, Ripley's, and maybe a few more I haven't heard of."

            "And still we got through it, didn't we?  Well, so maybe I'll let you stay after all.  And as it's already after 10:30, you may as well."

            And then Lennie's beeper went off.  Judith growled slightly and banged her forehead on his shoulder.  He'd sworn that it was highly unlikely he'd have to go back out tonight, but she knew better than to complain.  A half-year of going out with a cop had taught her that even a simple date was a fifty-fifty proposition at best.

            "Sorry, gonna have to get this."

            Judith retreated to the end of the couch where she propped her face in her hand.  What was it going to be this time, she wondered?  

            Lennie retrieved his beeper from his belt and checked the read-out.  He looked a bit puzzled.  "That's strange," he muttered.

            "Not the precinct?  Ed?  Surely he hasn't had time to get to Atlantic City yet."

            "No.  It's a 518 area code.  Glens Falls."

            "Your daughter?" asked Judith, surprised.  Lennie had gotten calls from his daughter but not at this time of night – at least as far as she knew.

            "Yeah, but it's not her home number."

            "Lennie, you better call."

            He reached for her phone but then said, "Um, will it be okay. . .?"

            "For heaven's sake, don't worry about it."  They'd been going out for all these months but hadn't really spent enough time together to entirely have settled the who-pays-for-what questions, and that situation had not been made any easier by some of what Judith considered to be Lennie's old-fashioned ideas – ideas that ranged from endearing to irritating.  As he punched in the numbers, she asked, "Should I . . . ?" and indicated she could leave the room if he wanted some privacy.

            He moved over and rested his hand on her arm.  "No, no – it's okay."

            Judith could tell as soon as the call went through that it wasn't good news.  Lennie tightened his grip on her, and his face went white.  But it couldn't be anything wrong with Julia because he was talking to her.  But something bad had happened.  Lennie was tersely asking his daughter the details of some incident.  Julia's husband, or – oh God, please not Lennie's grandson?  Then they were arguing – apparently about when Lennie was going to Glens Falls, he wanting to leave right away but Julia trying to talk him out of it.  Judith hoped Lennie would lose that one.  Whatever was wrong, he'd been up since four a.m. and definitely did not need to be traveling right now.  Fortunately, Lennie gave in but promised to see Julia first thing tomorrow.

            He hung up and buried his head in his hands.  Not knowing how much he might or might not want to be alone, Judith hesitantly put her arm around his shoulders.  He didn't push her away, so she hugged him closer to her and asked, "Lennie?  Lennie, what's happened?"

            He rubbed his eyes and stared straight ahead.  "My grandson Jake.  A hit-and-run driver."

            "Oh, Lennie, no," she breathed.  "Is he. . . ?"

            "No, no."  Lennie turned to look at her.  "I'm sorry.  I didn't mean to lead you to think the worst.  He's stable, but they don't yet know the extent of his injuries.  He's – he's not in good shape."

            "Oh, honey."  She hugged him tighter, and he responded, burying his face in her long brown hair.  " I'm so very sorry.  What is he – just ten, isn't it?"  He nodded, apparently not trusting himself to speak.  "Oh, the poor little kid.  It's so awful.  How are Julia and Bill holding up?" 

            "She sounded like hell.  He was in the hospital room with her, but I didn't talk to him."    

            Judith rocked him for a couple minutes, neither of them saying anything.  Then he suddenly pulled away.  "You know?  Screw what I told Julia!  I'm going up there tonight."

            "The hell you are!" and she pulled him back on the couch.  "You were dead on your feet when you walked in here.  If he's stable, there's nothing you can do tonight that you can't do tomorrow."

            "Still. . . "  And he started to get up again.  "I need to see about renting a car."

            "Lennie, that is ridiculous.  You'll take mine.  But not until you've slept for a while – at least until it's light.  Then take the car, go to your place for whatever you'll need, and head out then."

            "Maybe.  Maybe you're right," he said wearily.  "Not even sure I could see the road now."

            "That's right.  It sure wouldn't do Julia any good if you were in an accident, too, would it?"

            He shook his head and was quiet for a moment.  And then he said, "Come with me."

            She was surprised.  "Up there?"

            "Yeah, I want you to."

            "Are you sure that's such a good idea?  At a time like this?"

            "I need. . .  I don't want to be alone in the car all that time – thinking. . . "

            The overdeveloped sense of empathy that had gotten Judith in so much trouble in the past let her know exactly what he'd be thinking.  Cathy.  He'd be thinking about Cathy and how he couldn't stand to lose Jake, too.  But this was the last way in the world she wanted to meet Lennie's family.  She thought she probably would one day, but she had pictured it as their being on a visit to the city, but apparently that wasn't the way it was going to be.

            "Sure, okay – I'll go for the ride with you.  But I don't want to be in the way."

            "Whatever – however you want it.  I don't want you to be uncomfortable."

            "It's not me I'm worried about.  It's just that it's probably not what Julia needs right now."

            "Julia's okay.  She was never like. . . "

            "Shhhh, Lennie.  Not now – you have all you can handle now."  Cathy again.  From the very little Lennie had talked about her, Judith knew that Cathy had been the difficult daughter.  And she knew how much he still regretted that his last few times with her had been far from happy occasions.

            "So, you'll go?  You can get off work?"

            She raised an eyebrow at him.

            "Oh, yeah – I forgot.  You're fire-proof."

            Well, it was true.  Judith was in high demand as an art restorer.  She could set her own schedule at the gallery.  _Whatever Judith wants_ was her bosses' attitude.  Anything – as long as she didn't leave and find work elsewhere.  They never even gave the slightest thought to her prison record, and for that she was more than grateful.  She wondered if Lennie had told his daughter about how they met.  Julia might be as easy-going as he described her, but Judith couldn't imagine that not being a hard fact to swallow for any daughter.

            "I'll stay with you as long as you need me.  Now why don't we sleep?"

            "In a minute.  I gotta call Van Buren."  He picked up the phone but then suddenly dropped it back in its cradle.  "Hang on.  What you said before – that's not right."

            Judith couldn't think what he meant.

            "About my not being in an accident, too.  It wasn't an accident."

            "What happened to Jake?  You said it was a hit-and-run."

            "And therefore not an accident," he said grimly.  "That son-of-a-bitch better be caught by the time. . . "

            "Lennie, they have police in Glens Falls."

            "Yeah.  I'm going to make a call. . . "

            She put her hand over his on the phone.  "No, that's not what I meant.  I meant it's their concern.  You have other things to worry about right now."

            "But I want to make sure that their investigation. . . "

            "No," she said firmly.  "What happened to Jake isn't going to any less have happened if you wait until you get there to see what's going on.  I'm sure the police there are doing their jobs just as you would here if it were one of their grandsons.  If you want to talk to them when you get there, fine.  Right now just call Van Buren – only Van Buren --  and then go to sleep so that you can be rested for the trip."

            He gave in.  "Okay.  I'm too tired to argue."

            A little bit later, Judith collected a few things to pack as she watched Lennie sleep.  He had complained that he wasn't going to get a wink and said he would just sit up until it was light.  She looked around for some Xanax – and really had to look hard because she hadn't had a prescription filled in months.  She offered him one, which he predictably refused.  She'd been ready for that and countered with reminding him of her pathetic driving skills.  That did it, and now he was asleep.

            Lennie . . .  How did he and I ever happen?  For only about the hundredth time she asked herself that.  An ex-con and a cop.  There certainly was no shortage of people who still said it never should have happened.  And frequently Judith agreed with them.  Her life was better now than she ever thought it could be – certainly better than she deserved.  But for Lennie it was a different story.  Oh, he always said the right things to her about how he didn't give a rat's ass what anyone else thought, but she knew it had to be difficult.  One would think it would all be old news by now, but she knew there were still jokes about "Briscoe's slammer sweetie."

            No, never was it supposed to happen – not in one million years.  Hell, what were the odds that they ever would have seen each other again?  Yet one Saturday afternoon they had both a little too abruptly from opposite directions rounded a corner in the local grocery, entangling their carts and knocking over a pyramid display of canned peas in the process.  During mutual apologies, tugging of carts, and fumbling for the spilled cans, Lennie grumbled, "It makes you wonder what they think shelves are for."  Something about his voice made her look more closely at her fellow shopper.

            "Detective Briscoe, isn't it?" she asked before thinking whether she should have done so or not.

            He looked at her in some surprise, apparently not expecting to be addressed by his job title in a neighborhood grocery on a Saturday afternoon.  "Yes, um . . .  Have we . . . "  He was looking intently at her now, and she could tell he was rifling through a mental file drawer.  After a long moment during which she wasn't sure if she should identify herself or keep quiet, he said, "Sandler.  Judith Sandler.  You were . . . "

            "Yes, I was," she acknowledged before he could speak aloud of her crime.

            "And now you're . . . "

            "Yes, I'm out.  Released – not escaped."

            His eyes narrowed, and it was evident he was calculating the years.  She wondered if he knew that a sympathetic judge had knocked down her sentence even further from the already lenient deal Danielle Melnick had negotiated with the DA.  

            A store clerk arrived to relieve them of pushing the cans out of the aisle.

            "It doesn't seem like that long," said Lennie.

            "It wasn't.  I was fortunate, very fortunate."  And she could hear him thinking, _Yeah, a whole lot more fortunate than your victim._  But he was apparently too polite to say so.

            "It sure would seem that way," he said, not at all approvingly.

            She looked down, trying to think of some graceful way to end the conversation.  _Nice seein' ya again _wasn't going to do it.  It was a very awkward moment for both of them.

            "You know," he said finally, "I must have skipped this chapter in the etiquette book."

            "I doubt it's been written."

            "Well, um, good luck, I guess."

            "Thanks," she mumbled, wheeling her shopping cart around so fast she almost hit someone else.  She fled and prayed she could get out of the store without seeing the tall detective again.

            Now, almost a year later, Judith still was not quite able to laugh about that encounter.  She set the alarm for 5am, and as she got into bed, being very careful not to wake Lennie, her mind wandered back over the next few months following the grocery incident.  As it turned out, the apartment she had taken after leaving the halfway house was in his neighborhood, so they continued to see each other here and there from time to time, occasionally again in the grocery store.  Lennie would wave briefly or sometimes even smile.  It was damned eerie.  Here was a man who she once had been asked if she thought he was the Gestapo, and he was pleasantly waving at her.

            She thought that she was imagining that he seemed a bit more friendly than he had the first time in the grocery store, but later he told her that he had almost immediately looked up her case and decided that his initial reaction to her might have been more harsh than warranted.  "You see," he explained later, "what I remember most are the bod -- , er, crime scenes and the arrests."  And neither the crime scene Judith was responsible for or her arrest had been particularly pretty pictures.  He said he did make an effort to keep up with convictions and sentences of cases that he had worked on, but unless he was required to testify at trial, he generally knew fairly little about what happened following arrests.  He had heard at the time but forgotten until he looked up her case what part that rich bastard Richard Peterson and his phantom coin collection had played in the homicide and how even the victim Stephen Campbell had contributed to the events leading to his own death.  Considering those facts and how – well, frankly, "unhinged" she had been at the time, Lennie said that he had to concede that perhaps her three years sentence at Beacon was not out of line.  

            Still, he never spoke until a couple months later.  And that was the occasion of another collision – this time Judith and a boy on a bicycle.  She never really figured out exactly how that happened except that the idiot kid was riding on the sidewalk.  She was just walking home one afternoon, and, whoosh, out of nowhere he barreled into her.  She went sprawling, stunned but not hurt badly.  The kid, however, veered right into a brick wall and was lying on the sidewalk unconscious with blood beginning to pool around his head.  Judith regained her feet and went to him.  She had a really bad few seconds when all she could think of was Stephen Campbell in that same condition, but she pulled herself together because the boy – he looked to be about twelve or thirteen – needed help.  What to do, what to do?  She was trying to remember some basic first aid.  A few people who had seen what happened gathered around, but they seemed more bewildered than Judith.  "Someone have a cell phone?" she screamed.  "Call an ambulance – quick!"  She took off her coat, knelt beside the boy, and covered him with it.  Don't move him – that's right – she was sure she remembered hearing that.  The pool of blood was getting larger.  She heard confused voices around her.

            "Police.  Step back here.  What happened?"

            "Crazy kid hit that woman with his bike!"

            "Then he cracked into that wall!"

            "Did someone call an ambulance?"

            That last question was answered by an approaching siren.  She felt hands on her shoulders pulling her up.  

            "Look, miss, the paramedics will be here in a second.  You've covered him – that's all you can do right now."

            She turned to the person who was pulling her to her feet.  "Detective Briscoe?" she mumbled confusedly.

            "Miss Sandler.  We meet again.  Are you okay?"

            She nodded.  Actually, she wasn't.  Something hurt somewhere, but she hadn't quite figured out what yet.  "He's . . .   Is he . . . ?"

            "No, he's breathing.  It's gonna be okay."

            Then the paramedics were there.  The detective walked her to where she could lean against the wall out of the way.  Something definitely was hurting.  Some people were looking at her curiously.  She closed her eyes.

            When she opened them again, the boy was on a stretcher and being put in the ambulance.  The detective was talking to the paramedics.  Then the ambulance pulled away, and he walked over to her and handed her her coat.

            "Thanks," she said.  "How is he?"

            "Won't know for sure until they get him to the hospital, but they're pretty experienced with these things, and they think he just knocked himself out of the box.  His name is Phillip Minelli.  You can call later to see how he's doing if you want."

            She nodded.  "And all the blood?"

            "Not unusual for a head wound.  Superficial, they say.  Looked worse than it is."

            Then she felt something on her leg and bent to brush it away.  She felt mangled pantihose, and much to her surprise, her hand was covered in blood.  So, that's what had been hurting.  

            "Hey!  That's not his blood – it's yours.  Why didn't you say something while the paramedics were here?"

            "I didn't know until just now," she said dazedly.  "I knew something hurt, but I didn't know what.  Must have been the bike's fender."

            He bent to look at her leg.  "I don't think that it's all that deep, but you need to have it looked at."

            "I'll just clean it up at home.  It'll be okay."

            "You don't want it to get infected or worse.  You had a tetanus shot lately?"

            She shook her head. "No, but right now I just want to go home and wash it . . . "

            "Come on," he interrupted.  "There's a walk-in clinic about a block and a half from here.  I'll walk you there."

            "No, really," she protested.  "   That will just take hours, and I . . . "

            "It'll take only a few minutes.  You see, I have a special pass called a badge.  Amazing what it can do."

            "But I really don't want to . . . " she protested again to no avail as she was being propelled down the street.

            And she didn't like his touching her.  His hands were on her arm and shoulder, and she was having a panicky flashback to that day when he and his partner and that woman ADA showed up at her apartment.  Her breath began to come in huge gasps.

            "Whoa, whoa," he said and stopped to look at her.  "Am I walking too fast for you?  Does your leg hurt?  It's not that much farther, but we could get a cab."

            "No, no," she managed to get out while trying to get her breath.  "That's not it.  It's just that . . . "

            "What?"

            "You . . .  You took me some place once before."

            He closed his eyes briefly in acknowledgement.  "Oh, God," he said.  "I am sorry.  I didn't think – well, I just didn't think.  Look, just take some deep breaths, and try to get a grip on the situation, okay?  I know you've got some unpleasant memories, Miss Sandler, but this isn't the same thing at all.   You're the good guy this time – you were trying to help that kid, and now I'm trying to help you.  Come on – deep breaths."

            Judith knew well the relaxation drill, and it was working.  Present-time reality was returning.  Still, she sure as hell didn't want to go to the clinic.  Probably just more panic waiting for her there.

            "You're right, of course.  Look, I don't want to seem ungrateful, but I just want to go home."

            "And you will – as soon as we take care of this bit of business.  Hey, I don't mean to strongarm you here, but I'm really not going to let you fool around with that gash on your leg."

            No choice.  She was going to have to tough it out at the clinic and just try not to look like too much of an idiot.

            "Here we are."

            They entered the clinic where indeed the flash of a NYPD badge was an "open sesame."  In no time at all, a nurse was beckoning her to a treatment room.

            "Go ahead," he told her.  "I'll wait."

            She got up but instead of following the nurse, she bolted in the opposite direction.  She was almost to the clinic door when he caught up with her and grabbed her elbow.

            "Hey," he said, clearly annoyed, "what the hell is it with you?"

            "You don't understand," she said with her voice shaking.  "I thought I could do this – I really did, but I can't.  I'm afraid."

            "Of what?"

            "Doctors, needles, anything medical.  A lot of the other phobias I had are gone now.  I can go out in the rain.  I ride elevators.  But this one – this I haven't quite conquered yet."

            He stared at her, and she thought that he'd probably throw her out onto the sidewalk for the nut-case that she was, but instead he broke into a big grin.  "You, too?  And I thought I was the only one.  Look, these places give me the creeps, too -- send my blood pressure up and get my heart racing.  I hate 'em, but sometimes, you know, you just gotta.  It's just a cut – not major surgery.  You'll be out of here before you know it.  I promise."

            "I don't know . . . "

            "Look, you want me to stay with you?  Will that make you feel better?"

            She nodded.  "Yes, maybe."

            "Okay – let's do this."

            The cleaning and bandaging didn't hurt her leg much more than it already did, but the tetanus shot did hurt.  He held her hand all the while and provided a distraction by keeping up a steady patter of jokes with her and the nurse.  In twenty minutes they were back out on the street.

            "You okay now?"

            "Yes, but I think my arm hurts worse than my leg."

            "That'll go away in a day or so."

            "Thank you for not making fun of me."

            "I wouldn't do that – not to a fellow medicalphobe, or whatever it's called."

            "Iatrophobia.  It's called iatrophobia."

            "So, it really has a name?"

            "They all do."

            "Hmmm . . .  Think I could take disability for it?"

            "Doubt it."

            They both smiled, and some of the tension between them evaporated.

            "Come on," he said.  "I'll walk you to your apartment."

            He did and left her at the door.  She thanked him for the trouble he had taken with her, and he said, "See ya around."

            And they did see each other around, just as before the bike incident, but now Lennie did speak to her – usually just a quick "Hi – how are ya?" -- and she was no longer as unnerved at encountering him as she had been.  

            Then there was the day she was looking at the wine display in the grocery store, and holding a bottle of Bolla Soave in her hands.  He came up beside her and said, "This isn't a threat – just a friendly observation – but I don't think your parole officer would much like hearing about you buying that."

            "Well, you know something, Detective?  That gentleman and I have seen the last of each other as of today.  I'm no longer on parole, and I was thinking of celebrating."

            "So, that's it?  It's all over for you?"

            "It'll never be all over for me.  Look, I know what I did, and it will be with me for the rest of my life."

            He didn't say anything.

            "But at least I have a life?  Right?"

            "I didn't say that."

            "But you were thinking it."  And she could tell she was correct.

            "I'm sorry – it's not my place to judge.  People can change."

            "Maybe not change," she reflected softly, "but we can grow."

            "Have you grown?" he asked.

            "I hope to God I have.  I've sure as hell worked hard enough on it."

            "I have to admit that you don't seem very much like the woman we . . .  Um . . ."

            "Arrested?  Go ahead – you can say it.  It's a matter of public record."

            "Look, I don't mean to bring you down with bad memories.  This is a good day for you.  Enjoy it."  And he wheeled his cart around and started away from her.

            On an impulse, she called out to him, "Um, Detective Briscoe . . . "

            He turned.  "Yes?"

            "I, uh, I mean . . .  I don't suppose you'd like to share this bottle of wine with me?"

            "Me?"  He raised his eyebrow.  "That's one very strange invitation under the circumstances."

            "Yeah, yeah it is."  She took a deep breath.  "It's just that . . .  Well, you were there at the beginning, so it seems appropriate somehow – like closure, or something."

            "You're serious?  
            "Sure.  What the hell?"

            "Okay, sure – I'll celebrate with you, but I'll be drinking ginger ale or something.  I'm a recovering alcoholic."

            "Oh, God," she said, embarrassed.  "I'm sorry.  I didn't know.  We don't have to . . . "

            She started to put the bottle back on the display, but he reached out and stopped her hand.

            "No, no.  There's no way you could have known.  And it's my problem, not yours.  Look, even when I was drinking I never had much of a taste for white wine, so it's not going to bother me.  You go ahead and drink it, and I'll keep you company."

            "You're sure?"

            "I'm sure.  But there is just one thing I want to ask you first – something that's been bothering me."

            "Okay."

            "Back then, when we first talked to you at the museum . . . "

            "You mean when I gave you an art history lesson?  I was sorry about that afterwards.  It was really snotty."

            He smiled briefly.  "Compared to what people say to us on a daily basis, that didn't even rate a three on the one-to-ten snotty scale.  And at least I learned something.  No, what I am wondering is why you lied to us that day."

            "That's all a little hazy, but I don't recall that I lied exactly.  You never asked me if I had . . . Well, done it."

            "That's getting a little technical, isn't it?  You knew why we were there.  You could have saved everyone, including you, a whole lot of trouble.  You had to know you were going to be caught eventually."

            "That's a fair question, I guess.  I don't know quite how to explain it.  I think that I hadn't completely processed yet what I had done.  I just wasn't to the point yet that I could admit even to myself that I was responsible for something so horrible.  I don't know.   I was a mess then.  I know it's no excuse, but that's all I can tell you about that."

            "Okay."

            She couldn't tell if he completely believed her or not, but after a moment he said, "So, where do you want to drink that bottle of wine?"

            They agreed to meet a little while later at her apartment.  When she let him in, some of the old panic returned.  She tried to cover it but without much success.

            "You're shaking," he observed.

            "N-n-no, I'm really not.  It's just . . . "

            "Yes, you really are.  You better sit down."

            She thought so, too, and sank into an armchair.  Fortunately, good manners came automatically to her.  "Won't -- you – please – pleasesitdown?" came out in gasps.

            He did and looked at her with some concern.

            Deep breaths, Judith, she told herself – deep breaths.  She could make that work.

            "Look, Miss Sandler, if you want to change your mind about this, there's no harm done.  I won't be offended."

            "No.  No, I don't want to change my mind.  Just – just give me a couple seconds."

            "Is there anything I should get you?"

            She shook her head.  Several more breaths ought to do it.  "Whew," she said finally and began to babble.  "My, that was silly of me.  I'm sorry.  It's just that – that I haven't really done any entertaining for a while.  Not much opportunity in my room at Beacon.  My mother's been the only person here since I moved in.  I'm just not used to having people . . . "

            "Knock it off," he said not unkindly.  "We both know why this is happening to you and that I'm not just 'people.'  You're remembering the other time I came to your apartment, aren't you?"

            She looked at the ceiling and then back at him.  "You're very perceptive."

            "That's what I get paid for, remember?"

            "It's just that things come back to me and take me by surprise.  I mean, it never occurred to me that suddenly I would be thinking about that other apartment and that other time.  And then, all of a sudden . . .  I don't know – maybe it was seeing you in the doorway."

            "I'm no shrink, but it sounds kinda like that post-traumatic stress thing you always hear about on TV."

            "I'm sure you're right."

            "You don't have to answer – this is none of my business, but are you seeing a shrink?"

            "For three years at Beacon – voluntarily.  And then it was a condition of parole as well."

            "You gonna keep on now?"

            "I wasn't, but after what just happened, perhaps I should reconsider."

            "Maybe so.  It's tough to make transitions, you know.  It might take you some time."

            "You sound like you know something about that."

            "Yeah.  Drunk to sober – that's a hell of a transition."

            "Well, if you can do that, I can do this," she said firmly.  "I can."

            "I'm sure you will," he agreed.  "You're a very sharp lady – talented, as I recall.  You have a lot going for you.  And you know what helps in transitions?  Celebrating milestones.  That's what we do in AA.  So, you had the right idea."

            "You still want to celebrate with a mess like me?"

            "Absolutely.  Need any help opening that wine?"

            Judith didn't make it through even a half of the Bolla.  Not that it didn't taste good, but several years with no alcohol had shrunk her tolerance to near zero.  She didn't notice the effect at first because they'd been talking and laughing.  It felt good.  She hadn't laughed since . . .  Well, she couldn't remember since when.  There wasn't much to laugh about at Beacon, and before that – before that she could recall spending more time crying rather than laughing.  But this detective was a funny, funny guy!  She got up to freshen his ginger ale, but the room started spinning enough that she had to sit back down again pretty quickly.

            "Oooops!" she said.  "Sorry about that."

            "Oooops is right.  Speaking of transitions, if you're gonna start drinking again, you're going to have to work up to it.  You got something you can eat?"

            "I don't know," she giggled.  "I guess I should have since I just came from the grocery store.  Know what's funny?"

            "What?" he asked smiling.

            "I go to the grocery store for food.  But what do I come home with?  Wine and a NYPD detective!  Now, isn't that something?  I wonder how often that happens to people?"

            "It's a new one on me."

            "And you know what else, Detective?"

            "Lennie.  I think you can call me Lennie by now."

            "Oooo-kay, Lennie.  And I'm, um . . . "  But she started giggling again.

            "Judith.  You're Judith."

            "Yeah, that's me – you're right!"

            "Not Judy?"

            "Never been Judy."

            "Somehow I didn't think so."

            "Should I be Judy?"

            "Nahhh.  Don't make any more changes than you absolutely have to – especially during a transition."

            "Is that a rule?"

            "It's a rule."

            "Well, you ought to know, I guess."

            "Look, Judith, you really ought to eat, and I'm hungry.  You want to go grab something?"

            "You mean like go out?" she asked surprised.

            "Yeah, like go out.  Is that a novel concept?"

            She came back down a little off her giddiness and considered that.  "Yes, actually it is."

            "I know you were out of town for a while, but I still find that hard to believe."

            "I haven't been out to eat with anyone except my mother since I was divorced."

            "And when was that?"

            "About five years before I went 'out of town,' as you so politely put it."

            "What?  Were you like some kind of nun or something?"

            "Yes," she said softly, "like some sort of nun."

            "I never knew there were Jewish nuns."

            "At least one, but it didn't have anything to do with being Jewish.  Or, on the other hand, maybe it did."

            "Am I supposed to know what that means?"

            She shook her head.  "Believe me, you don't want to know."

            "Are you still a nun?"

            Judith considered that.  "You know, I have no idea."

            "Want to find out?"

            "How?"

            "Well, see – if you didn't go out to eat with anyone when you were a nun, but you go out to eat with me now, then you'll know you're not a nun."

            She tried to follow that.  "That's the craziest thing I ever heard," she giggled.

            "It's logic."

            "It's Lennie-logic!"

            "Lennie-logic!  I like it!  But you're stalling."

            "Stalling?  Who?  Me?"

            "Yes, you.  And you know you are."

            It was true.  But it was such a preposterous idea.  Judith Sandler go eat out with a man?  None of this could be happening.

            "Hey, if you don't want to . . . "

            "I didn't say that."

            "You haven't said anything."

            "But you said it's a rule not to make too many changes during a transition."

            "I made it up, okay?"

            "You're really confusing me."

            "And you're still really stalling me."

            "You said you were hungry?"

            "Yeah, it seems like about three days ago I said that.  How long are we going to have this conversation?"

            She was about to accept his invitation when something suddenly occurred to her.  "But, Lennie – what if someone should recognize me?"

            "So what?"

            "Should you even be seen anywhere near me?  There must be some sort of regulation."

            "You're no longer in the system.  No regulation applies."

            "Still, it couldn't do you any good."

            "You let me worry about that.  So, you want to go or not?"

            "Yes," she said slowly.  "Yes, I think I do." 

            "You don't have to sound so surprised about it.  Doesn't do wonders for my ego."

            "Your ego?  What does this have to do with your ego?"

            He sighed.  "You're going to be a lot of trouble, aren't you?  Come on – let's go before every decent place in the neighborhood closes down."

            They walked to a small Italian place that Lennie said he really liked a lot.  Judith was fine until she got to the door of the restaurant, where she just stopped dead in her tracks.

            "Judith?"  He turned to her.  "What is it?  Please tell me you don't have a pasta phobia."

            "No.  I'm just thinking.  Are you really sure you want to do this?"

            "Eat?  Yes, I'm really sure I want to eat."

            "With me?"

            "Hey, once a year or so I have to eat with my ex-wife.  You're gonna be a day at the beach compared to that."

            Judith had to smile at that.  "Let's see – ex-wife or ex-con?  You really that hard up for dinner companions, Lennie?"

            He groaned.  "I knew it – a lot of trouble."  

            No longer resisting, she allowed him to push her through the door. 

            At their small table, she asked him, "Why do you have to eat with your ex-wife?"

            "Family stuff."

            "You have children?"

            It took him a moment to say, "Yeah," and Judith could tell it was something he didn't want to talk about.  While she was searching for another topic of conversation, he asked, "What about your ex?"

            "What about him?"

            "You ever see him?"

            "He moved to the West Coast.  I hear from him once in a while.  He's a nice guy."

            "Then why'd you split?"

            "I . . .  I couldn't be married – that's all.  It just wasn't a good idea."

            "The nun thing?"

            "Kind of – yes."

            "But now you're not a nun."  It was a statement, not a question.

            "How do you know that?" she asked.

            "Remember?  Because you're here eating with me, so that makes you definitely not a nun."

            "Lennie-logic again, huh?"

            "Works for me."

            During their meal she commented at one point that the food was better than at Beacon although that hadn't been bad.

            "So, the State of New York puts on a pretty good spread?"

            "Nothing fancy, but it generally was wholesome and fairly tasty."

            "You mind talking about Beacon?"

            She considered that.  "I haven't had anyone to talk to about it, but, no, I don't think I mind."

            "How'd you do in there?"

            "Remarkably well.  Better than before I went."

            He looked surprised.  "Seriously?  I don't think I've ever heard from such a satisfied guest of the state."

            "Are you kidding, Lennie?  Don't you think I know where I was headed if it hadn't been for that judge?  I don't have anything to complain about."

            "You were lucky to get one who actually bothered to read the facts of a case."

            "Don't I know it!  But that didn't seem to be all that was going on.  I really was mostly just an observer at the whole thing, but she seemed really offended by the sentence Richard Peterson got, and it was sort of like she wanted to one-up someone by being sure I was out before he was."

            "I'll bet that thrilled McCoy to no end."

            "The DA?  He made a sort of token protest but didn't really argue about it."

            "Hang on a minute -- token protest?  Jack McCoy?  That guy gets paid for making people's lives as miserable as possible.  What was going on with him?"

            Judith shrugged.  "My lawyer Danielle looked like she was going to fall out of her chair."

            "McCoy missing a chance to stick it to her?  I'll bet she was speechless -- which would be a first."

            "You know Danielle?"  

            "I've had the, uh, pleasure on several occasions.  We don't exactly meet under the best of circumstances."

            "I will just bet," Judith said ruefully, remembering her own arrest.

            "Ah, lawyers," Lennie said.  "Seems like I spend half my life with them, and still I don't know what makes them tick."

            "I've certainly had enough of them for one lifetime."

            "So, anyway -- Beacon.  You really didn't mind being there?  Is that what you were saying?"

"No, of course I minded.  It's not fun to be in a place you don't want to be and know you can't leave.  But it taught me some things and gave me a chance to do some good."

            "Like what?"

            "I taught art classes.  The others seemed to really appreciate it, and that made me feel good."

            "And what did it teach you?"

            "Um, this is shrink talk, but I learned to curb my tendency to 'displace my empathy.'"

            "'Displaced empathy' – I think I saw that phrase somewhere in your file."

            "You remember a phrase from my file?  After four years?"

            "No, I've got a good memory, but not that good.  After we bumped into each other in the grocery store, I, uh, looked it up."  

            "You did?  Why?"

            He looked a bit embarrassed.  "Well, partly just simple curiosity."

            "And partly what else?"

            He looked down at his plate.

            "You were wondering how in the hell I was back on the streets so soon, weren't you?  And that's why you weren't very friendly that day."

            "Well, I was wrong – I found that out from the file.  I'm sorry."

            She waved her hand.  "Oh, don't apologize, for heaven's sake.  Who could blame you?  I think that same thing sometimes myself."

            "So, it was the displaced empathy thing that caused you to – um, . . . "

            "Cause Stephen Campbell's death?  Yes.  That's sort of a simple explanation, but I believe that's basically it."

            "How did you fix it?"

            "I'm not sure it's completely fixed, but I did it by finally convincing myself, with help from the prison shrink, that it didn't help anyone.  I could sit half a day and cry buckets about Rwanda, but it wasn't going to affect the situation there at all.  Meanwhile, I could be empathizing with people I could help, and in Beacon I didn't have to go far to find them."

            "The art classes?"

            "Yes, that and sometimes just talking.  There were women there much worse off than I was, some with dreadful pasts.  I know this all must sound horribly trite."

            "No, it doesn't.  It's an example of the system actually working.  God knows, you don't hear about that happening every day."

            "Thank you for that.  So, you're . . .  You're okay with me now?"

            "Not okay with what you did, but I'm definitely okay with who you are now.  And, Judith?"

            "Yes?"

            "I have to confess something."

            She blinked in amusement.  "Well, that's a bit of a switch, isn't it?"

            "Yeah, it is," he laughed.

            "So, what is this deep, dark secret?"

            "It's not very deep, it's definitely not dark, and I don't want it to be a secret."

            "Well, then you better tell me."

            "There was another reason why I looked at your file – actually two reasons."

            "Really?  What were they?"

            "Your big green eyes."

            Judith put her water glass down with a clatter.  She couldn't believe what she just had heard.  She felt herself flush, and although the effects of the wine had worn off, she began to feel as giddy as she had in her apartment.

            Lennie was regarding her with some amusement.  "Seems there's some red to go with that green now," he teased.  "A little Christmasy, perhaps, but a nice combo."

            "What's going on here?" she asked in a daze.

            "Well, let's see . . .  I think I just made a pass at you."

            "Oh, no, Lennie.  You don't want to do that.  You really don't want to do that."

            "Well, I can't take it back.  There's a no-returns policy."

            "Don't joke."

            "I'm not joking."

            Think, Judith, think, she told herself.  There has to be some way out of this.  You know you have to put a stop to it.  It simply is not something that can happen.  She briefly considered just leaving and hoping he'd get the message, but Lennie was nice, and she didn't want to hurt his feelings.  How to get out of this?

            "What are you thinking?" he asked after a few moments.

            "Honestly?  I'm thinking there has to be some way out of this."

            "Just tell me you're not interested.  I'm a big boy."

            Do it, Judith, do it, part of her screamed at herself.  You know what's ahead if you don't.  But she couldn't make herself speak.

            "I'm not hearing you're not interested, Judith."

            She gulped down some water before she could speak.  "Look, I'm really out of practice.  What are we talking about here?"

            "Whatever you want to talk about.  I know you've had a rough time, and I'm not gonna be pushy."

            Still, she thought, this is not a good idea, but when she looked at Lennie, she couldn't make herself say so.

            "Lennie, I don't know what to say – how to react.  I don't know anything."

            "I'll make it easy for you.  Just say that you'd like to have dinner with me again this week sometime."

            She knew she should turn him down, but instead she spoke the truth.  "Yes, I'd like that very much."

            After dinner Lennie left her at her apartment, saying he would call once he had checked the rotation schedule at work.  "Is it okay to call you at the gallery?"

            "Sure, that's no problem.  Let me give you the num-. . . "  She began to reach into her bag for a card.  "Wait a minute -- how do you know where I work now?  I don't think I've mentioned that."

            "It's in your file, of course.  And I have the number."

            Judith was a little surprised at that, but it wasn't until after Lennie had said goodnight and left that she realized that if information about her current employment was in whatever file he had read, he must also have known exactly when she would be off parole.  God, what was going on here? she wondered and didn't know whether to be flattered or. . .  Or what?

                                                End Chapter One.  Go to Chapter Two --------


	2. Chapter Two

A LOT OF TROUBLE

Chapter Two

            Over the next few days, she pondered whether or not to ask him about that, not at all sure she wanted to know the answer.  When they next met, this time at a Mexican restaurant, her curiosity finally got the better of her, and she confronted him.  

            "You weren't only reading the old file of my case, were you?"

            "Nope."

            "My parole file, too?"

            "Yup."

            "What am I supposed to think about that, Lennie?"

            "I guess that I'm a very curious guy.  You upset with me?"

            "I don't know.  Should I be?"

            "I hope not.  Look, I wasn't stalking you."

            "What would you call it?"

            "Waiting.  I was just waiting for you."

            "Why?"

            He smiled at her in a way that reminded her of how damn much fun she had had with him the last time. "I should think that the answer to that would be pretty obvious."

            She started blushing again and hated herself for it.  "Look, Lennie, I don't know how to do this kind of stuff."

            "You must have once."

            "I don't know.  Even if I did, I sure don't remember."

            "You'll get the hang of it.  Hey, you want a glass of wine to go with this?  It might help."

            Actually she did.  "You wouldn't mind?"

            "Nah.  I told you, I'm long past that."  He called a waiter.  "Remember last time, and just take it nice and slow."

            "You wouldn't be trying to get me drunk by any chance?"

            "Certainly not.  They'd probably throw me out of AA if I did that.  I just think you need to relax a little and let yourself enjoy the situation."

            "And what situation would that be exactly?"

            He sighed.  "There you go again being a lot of trouble.  See, what's happening here is that I'm flirting with you.  You have one of two choices.  You can -- A -- tell me to get lost, or -- B -- relax and enjoy it.  But pretending you don't know what's going on is not an option."

            She thought about that.  "Oh, God -- you must think I am such a total idiot."   

            "No, I don't.  I just know how hard it can be to bounce back after some experiences."

            "And just why is it you would want to hang around while I do that?"

            "Let's just say I've been there."

            "The drinking?"

            "No, not just that.  Judith, the other night you asked me if I have children."

            "And I could see that that bothered you."

            "Yes, you see, I do -- well, did have children.  Two daughters.  Several years ago I lost one of them."

            "Oh, no, Lennie." Judith's eyes filled with tears at the pain in his voice.  "I am so sorry."

            He reached over and put his hand on hers.  "Look, I'll tell you about that sometime, but not tonight.  My point for right now is that I know how hard it is to make yourself want to start living again.  Normal things like going out to eat and flirting, let alone starting a relationship, seem out of the question, I know.  But little by little. . .  Well, little by little, things do start happening again.  They really do.  So, if you are interested in me but want things to go slowly, that's fine."

            "You've got that kind of patience?"     

"Well, I've been leading a pretty drab existence for the last few years, but since you've moved into the neighborhood, the scenery has brightened considerably."

            "Um, this is that flirting thing again, right?"

            "See?"  He smiled.  "I told you you'd get the hang of it!"   

            "So."  She took a sip of the wine.  "What happens now?"

            "There's no set of instructions we have to follow.  We can just keep going out like this for a while and see what happens."

            "Okay, but you've taken me out twice now.  Why don't you let me make you dinner next time.  I'm a little rusty, but I assure you that my cooking skills are better than my flirting skills."

            "Me coming into your apartment?  Are you sure you're ready to try that again?"

            "That's very considerate of you to ask, but I'll be ready this time because I have a plan."

            "Really?  What's your plan?"

            "Well, I actually got it from my shrink, but what I am going to do is just expect that I'm going to panic.  It can't be worse than last time, and it probably won't be as bad.  And it may not even happen again since I won't be taken unawares this time.  So, if it happens, fine – if it doesn't, even better."

            "That's a good plan.  So, you've told your shrink about me, obviously."

            "Oh, yeah," said Judith, remembering that that didn't go over so well with Dr. Pierson.

            Lennie must have picked up on her tone because he said, "What?  He – or she – doesn't approve."

            "He.  No, he'd never put it that way exactly."

            "Mind telling me how he did put it?"

            Shrugging, she answered, "No, I don't mind.  I suppose you have a right to know.  He said that I should think carefully because I could be playing with fire for several reasons."

            "Let me guess – our prior acquaintance?"

            "Yeah.  He implied that there's something a little strange about it."

            "I guess we can't deny that, can we?"

            "No, but I'm not worried about that.  Lennie, you were just doing your job.  And I just happened to be where you were doing it.  Nothing out of line happened.  I can get past it."

            "That's a good attitude.  He buy it?"

            "Who can tell with shrinks?"

            "What other reason did he give?"

            This would be a bit harder to tell Lennie about.  It involved a _what if_ she wasn't completely comfortable voicing.  Still, Lennie did have a right to know since it involved him directly.

            "He said that – well. . . "  She looked down.

            "You don't have to tell me."

            "I think it might be something best to have out there."

            "Okay."

            "Well, he thinks that someone in your line of work – that, um, that that might not be the best choice for me because I tend to worry a lot."

            Lennie closed his eyes for a couple seconds, apparently knowing exactly what she was talking about.  "Well, what can I say?  It does come with the territory.  All I can tell you is that statistically chances are very good nothing is going to happen."

            "Statistically?  How about anecdotally?"

            "Sure everyone knows someone who. . .  But just don't listen to the anecdotes.  That's what'll drive you crazy."

            "I'm sure that's good advice."

            "You going to be able to take it?"

            "Well, I guess that's one of those things we're just going to have to see about."

            "Any other reasons why I'm the fire you're playing with?"

            Judith hesitated.  Of course there was, but unlike the other two, it wasn't specific to Lennie.  Probably she _should_ tell him.  Send him running right now.  That probably would be the best thing for both of them.  But her shrink had convinced her that she was not hopeless, and maybe Judith believed him – maybe just a little.

            "I don't want to pry, Judith."

            "I'm just not ready to go there, Lennie.  Okay?  Maybe with luck I won't have to."

            "That's fine.  I understand.  I want to make things as easy as I can for you."

            "And what about for you, Lennie?"

            "What about me?"

            "I don't know much about your world, but I am sure that sooner or later someone from it is going to see us and figure out who I am.  I said it before – that can't possibly be any good for you."

            "And I said before to let me worry about it.  Even if it ever came up, which it may not, my private life is no one's business."

            "Is that what you told yourself when you were drinking?"

            "Of course.  That's what all drunks tell themselves.  And we're all wrong.  But this isn't like that.  There's no way that my seeing you can possibly affect my job."

            "Still. . . "

            "Still nothing," he said firmly.  "And let's quit talking about reasons we shouldn't be seeing each other and get on with doing it."

            "Okay," she agreed.  "So, what do we do next?"

            "Well, let's see. . .  I think I'll go back to flirting with you because I think it's cute how it makes you blush."

            And indeed, that's all it took to make her do so again, and Lennie laughed.

            That's how it went on for the next several weeks.  They went out, or Judith would cook, but there were as many broken dates as kept ones as Judith discovered that a detective's schedule was far from written in stone.  He said she was remarkably understanding and that often broken dates were what kills cops' relationships before they even get started.  She somewhat guiltily let him think that when in reality the longer time between dates bought her time.  And even if there weren't "dates," so to speak, they snatched a little time here and there – he might come by the gallery and take her for coffee or he might stop by her place on his way home for a little while late at night if she was still up.  Judith was even relaxing about anyone recognizing her or asking questions about her.

            Of course, one day the inevitable happened.  Lennie called and said that he and his partner Ed would be at the courthouse all day and asked if she would come downtown and meet them when they broke for lunch.  Give her a chance to meet Ed, he said.

            "Do you think that's such a good idea, Lennie?"

            "Look, he knows I've been seeing someone, and he's asked about meeting you.  It's not a very unusual thing, you know.  And, no – I haven't told him about how we met before.  There's no reason he needs to know."

            She rather reluctantly agreed to meet them at the place he named.

            She did, and found herself having fun.  Ed was a pleasant black man, and she found him easy-going and interesting.  They were nearly finished with their meal when Ed left to take a cell-phone call.

            Lennie leaned across the table and took her hand.  "See?  This wasn't so bad, was it? "

            She shook her head.  "No, not at all.  He seems like a very nice guy."

            "Maybe some night we can. . . "  And Lennie's voice trailed off as he seemed to catch sight of something over her shoulder behind her.  "Judith," he said in a low voice, "Don't freak out, okay, but Jack McCoy and his assistant are leaving the restaurant, and I don't think there's any way they're not going see us."

            "Lennie!  Oh, God!  I can't. . . "  She tried to take her hand out of his, but he held it firmly.

            "Yes, you can.  Everything will be fine." 

             Then they were there at the table.  Judith remembered Jack McCoy all too well, but the assistant – she wasn't the same one.  This one was tall with long dark hair.

            "So, Detective Briscoe," said the DA, "It would seem that you are having yourself a pleasant lunch today."  He was obviously looking for an introduction.

            Judith studied her plate and wished she were anywhere else – even back at Beacon.

            "Counselors."  Lennie stood up.  "Abbie Carmichael, this is Judith Sandler."

            The tall brunette shook Judith's hand and said in a husky voice, "Nice to meet you, Ms. Sandler."

            "And Judith, I believe that you and Mr. McCoy are already acquainted."

            The prosecutor was staring at her as if Lennie had introduced him to a three-headed yak.  This was clearly a man who didn't like to be thrown curves.

            "Sandler?  Judith Sandler?"  He looked at Lennie.  "How could this happen?"

            Abbie Carmichael looked curiously at all three of them, obviously with no idea what was going on.

            Just at that moment, Ed returned to the table.  "Hi, Abbie.  McCoy.  You meet Judith?"  And then, as it dawned on him that not everything was what it seemed, he began to look as curious as Abbie.

            "Jack," Lennie said evenly, "the only thing that's happening is that Judith and I are having lunch with my partner."

            "But. . . "  The DA began to splutter.  "This just isn't possible!"

            "Jack?" said Abbie, turning to her boss.  "What's wrong?"

            "There's nothing at all wrong, Counselor," said Lennie in the same steady tone, "as I'm sure your boss will explain to you when he calms down.  Maybe you better take him back to the office now."

            Abbie touched Jack's sleeve.  "Jack, let's go – okay?"

            Thankfully, he did go, with one last incredulous look at Judith and Lennie.

            Lennie and Ed sat back down.  Judith put her head in her hands.

            "Is someone going to tell me what just went on here?" asked Ed.

            "I'll explain it to you later.  Ed, would you mind leaving us alone for a few minutes?  I'll catch up to you."

            "Okay, Lennie – but make it quick.  We've got to be back in court in a few minutes.  Judith?  You okay?"

            "Yes, Ed.  It was nice meeting you."

            "Same here.  We'll do it again sometime."  And he was gone.

            "Judith," Lennie said.  "Talk to me.  Don't be upset.  McCoy'll calm down."

            "Did you see how he looked at me?"

            "He just doesn't like surprises."

            "He's really upset with you, Lennie."

            "Jack McCoy spends ninety percent of his life really upset.  It doesn't mean anything."

            "Can he make trouble for you?"

            "I don't see how."

            "You're going to have to tell Ed now."

            "Yes."

            "And he'll hate me.  And he'll give you a hard time."

            "He's not like that.  Don't worry about it."

            "You better go, Lennie."

            "I don't want to leave you like this.  You're shaking."

            "I'll be fine.  I'm just going to sit here a little while."

            "We knew this had to happen sooner or later."

            "And now it has.  Lennie, go on, please – I don't want to make you late."

            "I'll be by later.  Okay?"

            "Yes, sure."

            He gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze and left.

            And now it starts, she thought.  All hell is going to break loose.  Just something else that's going to be my fault.  I should have pushed Lennie away when the going was good for him.  Now he's going to have to put up with all this crap.  All for a relationship that he probably was going to get nothing out of anyway.  True to his word Lennie had not been pushy.  An occasional good night kiss, and he'd put his arm or arms around her on several occasions.  She succeeded in not pulling away, but she was sure that he felt her stiffen at his touch.  He had sighed once or twice but hadn't said anything.  Judith knew that the situation couldn't continue, but she wasn't making any progress with the shrink either.  She sighed.  And now this – everyone knowing about her.  She was starting to feel very much in a fishbowl and didn't know what if anything she should or could do about it.

            Lennie didn't stop by until really late.  He thought he'd be able to go home after the court thing, but as it turned out he and Ed caught a case.  He was tired and didn't stay long but did tell her that he saw McCoy again later and explained things to him.

            "How?" she asked.  "How did you explain it?"

            "That the second time around we met like normal people meet and that we started going out like normal people go out."

            "Did he buy it?"

            "There's nothing to buy.  He can accept it or not as he likes.  I really don't care."

            "And Ed?"

            "He was surprised."HHHhhh

            "And?"

            "And nothing.  He was surprised.  That's all."

            Judith was pretty sure that wasn't all, but she could tell it wasn't something to press Lennie about – at least not when he was this tired.  Still she wondered what would be the next shoe to drop.

            She didn't have to wait long.  Three days later, she was called to the phone at the gallery.

            "Miss Sandler.  This is Anita Van Buren from the 27th Precinct."

            Lennie's boss?  He'd spoken often of her.  But why?  _Oh, my god_, she thought, panicking.

            "Lennie?  Is he. . . "

            "He's fine, Miss Sandler.  I just saw him half an hour ago.  I'm sorry – I didn't mean to alarm you."

            Judith caught her breath.  "Then I have to confess that I'm a bit puzzled about this call."

            "Miss Sandler, can you get away and meet me for coffee in a little while?"

            "I – yes," she answered, confused.  "But can you tell me why you want to do that?"

            "I'll explain that when we meet."

            They agreed on a place, and Lt. Van Buren was waiting for her when she arrived about a half hour later.  Judith vaguely recognized her from the day she was arrested but had formed only a vague impression of the attractive but no-nonsense black woman.  The rest of what she knew about her came from Lennie, and it was evident that he respected her a good deal.

            If the lieutenant remembered Judith, she didn't say so.  Judith introduced herself, and they sat down.  

            "What can I do for you, Lieutenant?"

            "Look, Miss Sandler, I don't usually do this.  My detectives' private lives are just that – private.  But. . . "

            "But Lennie and I are a unique case?"

            "Exactly."

            "Lieutenant, before you go any further, I hope this isn't something I can't tell Lennie about because I wouldn't feel right. . . "

            "No, Lennie Briscoe isn't a man you keep things from – I know that.  You can tell him whatever you think is appropriate.  I just want you to know that he's going to have a pretty rough time for a while.  He might not tell you that, but he is."

            "Because of me?  Everyone knows?"

            "Ours is a small world, Miss Sandler.  Something like that spreads like wildfire.  And not everyone is going to be very kind about it."

            "What about you, Lieutenant?  Are you upset with Lennie?"

            "It's not for me to be upset with him or not.  Obviously, for his sake, I wish this were a choice he hadn't made.  But Lennie's a good judge of character.  If you're what he wants, I have no reason to second-guess him.  And, I've got to tell you this – I didn't know why until now, but Lennie has seemed like a very happy man the last couple of months.  God knows he deserves it."

            "Thank you for telling me that."

            "That is really all I wanted to say.  Well, maybe just one more thing. . . "

            "Yes?"

            "Treat him well, Miss Sandler.  Please."

            _Treat him well._  The lieutenant's words echoed in Judith's mind.  If she had been going to treat Lennie well, she should have turned him away two months ago.

            Soon after Judith had spoken to Lt. Van Buren, she and Lennie had a rare kept date, and even more remarkably an uninterrupted one, at her apartment for dinner.  She cooked hot Cajun chicken thighs, baked potatoes with chives and sour cream, and garlic broccoli, all of which Lennie consumed with gusto.

            "You sure weren't kidding about having some cooking skills, Judith.  Everything you've done has been great."

            "Thank you, Lennie.  I try.  I hope they make up for my lack of skills in – um, other areas."

            He reached across the table and took her hand.  "Judith, we're going to have to talk about that."  She couldn't look at him, and he said quietly, "Let's clean this stuff up first, okay?"

            Almost wordlessly, he helped her in the kitchen, and then they retired to her living room.  Judith started to take the armchair she usually did, but Lennie reached for her arm and pulled her over to the couch beside him.  She was breathing heavily and not able to cover it.

            "I'm making you nervous, right?" he asked.

            There was no point in denying the obvious.  But Lennie's hands were on her – his left hand on her shoulder and his right arm drawing her closer to him.  She couldn't breathe and made a distressed sound.  He loosened his grip but didn't relinquish it.

            "Judith?  What's happening here?"

            "Lennie, let me go – please."

            He did so at once.  "What's the problem?  Please talk to me."

            Judith was breathing hard, nearly but not quite into panic attack mode.  "It's just that it's. . .   It's. . . "  And she buried her head in her arms on the back of the couch.

            His hand was on her back, stroking up and down her spinal cord.  It was comforting, reassuring, but she didn't know if she could stand it.  She jumped up from the couch and turned to face him but didn't know if she had a word she possibly could say.

            "Lennie. . . " she started.

            "Yes?  What is it?"

            "I tried.  Oh, God, I tried to make you understand this wasn't a good idea."

            "Well, no you didn't.  If I'm recalling the same scenes correctly, I gave you at least a couple of very explicit opportunities to tell me to back off.  I've been taking things slowly because I understand you need to do that, but, Judith – things reach a point. . . "

            "I understand that, Lennie.  I really do.  I thought – hoped -- I'd be ready."

            She could see he was confused and puzzled, and she felt sorry for him and very ashamed of herself.  Neither of them said anything for a moment.  Finally he sighed, and said, "Look, Judith, I'm not giving you an ultimatum or anything, but I need to understand what's happening with you.  Come sit back down here with me, please.  I promise I won't do anything you don't want.  Okay?"

            She sat back down, and he reached for her hand.  "I assume this is okay?"

            "Yes, it's nice."

            He held her hand and said, "Can you explain things to me?  What are you afraid of?"

            "I want to explain – I really do.  It's just that this is so embarrassing I don't know where to start."

            "Is it sex?  Is that what you're afraid of?  But you were married."

            "And that was not a spectacular success."

            "What happened?"

            "Things were okay at first – no waves crashing on the beach or anything like that, but okay.  And then, gradually, the claustrophobia I'd always had got worse, and eventually I just couldn't stand, you know, to be that close to someone.  It just made me panic.  And Steven – he would look at me like you are now."

            "So, it's not sex as such?"

            "I don't think so.  I don't know.  It's been so long I barely remember."

            "What does your shrink say?"

            "That I've overcome a lot of other phobias and that I should be able to deal with this one as well."

            "Are you going to be able to do that?"

            "Not if tonight is any indication," she sighed.

            "Well, do you really want to deal with it?"

            "What kind of question is that?  Of course I do."

            "Are you sure?  Are you really sure you're not more comfortable just staying in your status quo cocoon?"

            "And your degree would be from where, Dr. Briscoe?"

            "Don't get mad.  I'm just trying to help you sort this out.  I kind of have a vested interest."

            "I'm sorry.  I didn't mean to be so defensive."

            "It's okay.  And you're right, I'm no shrink, but it seems to me that you've got to have a plan."

            "A plan?"

            "Yeah.  Like remember when you said you had a plan about my coming here after that first time?  You were ready for what might happen, and then nothing did, and everything was fine."

            "I think this is more of a deep-seated problem, Lennie."

            "Sure it is, but that doesn't mean we can't have a plan to deal with it."

            "We?  Most guys would have hit the street by now.  Hell, they'd still be running.  And don't tell me you weren't thinking about doing the same thing when I freaked out on you."

            "Okay, maybe I did for a second or two, but I didn't understand.  And something else."

            "What?"

            "I don't want my life to go back to the way it was a couple of months ago.  Since. . .  Since Cathy died, I'd just been existing rather than living.  Now I feel like I'm living again, and I'm not going to let a little claustrophobia scare me off."

            Judith just stared at him.  How remarkable that a man just said that to her.  It just didn't seem possible, and she wasn't sure she was up to bearing the responsibility it implied.

            "Judith?  Did I just sprout antennae or something?"

            "No, no – I was just thinking. . .   What were you saying about a plan?"

            "Well, I think I took you a little by surprise tonight and that's why you had a problem."

            "But it's not as if I didn't know it would happen sooner or later," she said ruefully.

            "Yeah, but you didn't know when, and you didn't know what.  If you knew ahead of time, maybe you could deal with it better."

            "Example?"

            "Well, how about this?  We're here on the couch.  Suppose I put my arm around you and we just sit very close for a little while."

            "Sounds pretty adolescent, Lennie."

            "If that's what it takes.  Think you can handle it?"

            "Right now?"

            "If you think you're ready to try it."

            "I feel so incredibly stupid putting you through this."

            "Don't worry about that."

            Judith was taking deep breaths to forestall the panic.  "And that's all I have to do?"

            "That's all you have to do."

            "Sure, well, okay.  It's worth a try."

            Very slowly he moved closer to her and put his arm around her shoulders.  "You okay so far?"

            She nodded, trying to concentrate on her breathing.  He pulled her closer until the sides of their bodies lined up on the couch.  She didn't know if she could do this, but she was sure going to try not to pull away from him.

            "How about we give it one minute, okay?"  He glanced at his watch.  "I know you're uncomfortable, but do you think you can stay put for one minute?"

            "Sure," she managed to gasp.

            As the minute ticked away, her breath started to come more regularly.  She was acutely conscious of the warmth of Lennie's body, but she figured that was okay – she could deal with it since her other side was free.

            "One minute," he said.  "Want me to let you go?"

            It would be easy to say yes, she thought.  But at this point her fear of looking like a complete idiot was catching up to her claustrophobia.  "No, it's okay.  Let's try it a little while longer."

            "Judith, I'd like to touch your hair.  Would it be all right if I did that?"

            "Um, let's see – fear of having hair touched," she said nervously.  "I never ran across a word for that one, so I guess I don't have it."

            Lennie chuckled.  "That's a good thing.  You have pretty hair.  I've been wanting to touch it."

            "You have?" she asked surprised, as he stroked her hair and wrapped a bit of it around his fingers.

            "Sure.  Don't you know you have pretty hair?"

            "I. . .   I've never thought about it – at least not in the longest time."

            "I'd tell you you are a beautiful woman, but I don't want to make you any more nervous than you already are.  How're you doing, by the way?  I haven't been keeping track, but we must be into the third minute by now."

            "I'm okay – I really think I'm okay."

            "Want to stay like this for a little while?"

            "If you've got the patience."

            "Hey, sitting on a couch with my arm around a beautiful woman?  I'm not complaining."

            "But is it enough?"

            "For now it is."

            "And later?"

            "We'll deal with it.  We have a plan – remember?"

            "You know, Lennie?  You were right from the very beginning.  I _am_ a lot of trouble."

            He leaned his head against hers and sighed.  "You certainly are."

            And Lennie's plan worked eventually.  It hadn't been all smooth sailing by any means, but when Judith panicked, they just accepted it, took a step backward if they had to, and just gradually moved along.  When they finally did begin sleeping together, Judith couldn't think what she had been so afraid of.  She felt like a completely new person, one who had emerged from what Lennie had called a cocoon.  The old Judith – well, she was old, past.  Judith was growing beyond her every day.

            But now – this thing with Lennie's grandson.  She didn't know.  Lennie slept well beside her, and she was grateful for that, but it was now just a couple hours before the alarm would ring, and she was getting really scared.  If you're going to be scared, Judith, she told herself, be scared for that little kid.  That's something realistic to be scared about.  And she was, of course.  But as she thought back over the last year, she recognized a couple of common themes that were popping up again.  One, was she going to be strong enough to deal with the situation?  There was going to be no "plan" this time to get her through this – no baby steps.  Lennie was going to need her, and she was going to have to be there for him.  Period.  Her panic he didn't need right now.  And, two, what was Lennie's daughter going to think of her? Judith, Judith, damn it, she thought, this isn't about you.  There's no reason your past should come up – no reason at all.  Everyone's going to have far more important things on their minds.  This isn't something that is worth worrying about.  Not worth worrying about.  Not worth worrying about.

                                                End Chapter Two.  Go to Chapter Three --------


	3. Chapter Three

A LOT OF TROUBLE

Chapter Three

            The alarm clock droned all too soon at 5am.  For a moment, neither Judith nor Lennie could recall the reason for it, but then Lennie apparently did because a very grim look came over his face.

            "Did you sleep well?" she asked.           

            "Well enough.  That whatever you gave me did the trick."

            "I'll make coffee."

            "Make it quick.  We gotta be on the road."

            Guess he hasn't changed his mind about my going along, she thought.  She wanted to ask him if he were still sure about that, but he looked definitely not in the mood for conversation.

            And she was right about that.  He said barely a word to her as they made their way out of the city and turned north on I-87.  

            "Ought to be about three hours from here," he observed.  "You don't look like you slept very much."

            "I didn't.  I was thinking."

            "About what?"

            "About you mostly.  I was just remembering. . .   Remembering a lot of things.  You've been good to me, Lennie – and good for me.  I wish you didn't have to go through this."

            "Yeah, well. . . "  His voice trailed off, and he lapsed back into silence.

            Judith wished she could sleep.  In fact, she'd very much like to be asleep before they crossed I-84 in about an hour.  There, just east over the Hudson lay Beacon, and Judith didn't want to think about that right now, and she started to worry about how she might react.  Lennie didn't need any sort of incident from her.  Actually, she was getting more worried about him by the minute.  He was white-knuckle driving although there were relatively few other vehicles on the road.  And this grim silence wasn't at all like him.  Only once before had she seen him anything at all like this, and Judith didn't like to think about that either, but she recalled it all too well.  "The Briscoe Storm" he had explained later was what his daughters had called it – a rare occurrence but not easy to watch.

            It had been about three months ago when Judith and Lennie were still working on their "plan."  On a Sunday afternoon they were sitting on a bench in a small park-like area sharing french fries and a Coke.  She couldn't remember what they had been talking about, but they were chatting and laughing when suddenly something on the street caught Lennie's attention.  Judith didn't think anything of it at first because no matter what he was doing Lennie was always scanning his immediate environment – second nature for a cop he told her.  Usually it made her feel safe, but this time there seemed to be something definitely wrong.  She turned to see if she could see what he was looking at, but he stopped her and said in a steely voice she had never heard, "Judith, do exactly what I say right now, and don't ask any questions.  See that coffee shop across the street?  You go there right now, and don't look back."

            "Lennie. . . ?"

            "Now!  Go!"

            Confused, Judith looked at him for a long second and then did as he told her – almost.  She crossed the street to the coffee shop but could not resist looking back.  Lennie was approaching a couple on the sidewalk on the side of the street where they had been sitting.  There was definitely some sort of problem between them.  In the coffee shop, Judith took a seat as close to the window as she could.  There was no doubt the man was harassing the woman.  Judith couldn't see her clearly, but she had the definite impression that the woman somehow did not look in good shape.  What happened next Judith couldn't be sure of because it was happening so fast and some people who had stopped to look were in her way.  It was evident that Lennie was in some sort of altercation with the man and that he was trying to separate the two.  Possibly Lennie was trying to take the woman away.  Maybe she was resisting him?  Judith just couldn't tell.  It was only minutes, but the scene seemed to drag on longer than that.  She was getting scared because the man looked very angry and out of control, and she didn't see any other police in sight.  Then the man seemed to be gone – she didn't know where.  Lennie was taking the woman across the street toward the coffee shop.  Had he arrested her? she wondered.

            He and the woman entered the coffee shop.  Lennie continued past the table where Judith was sitting and said brusquely, "Not a brilliant choice of a seat, Judith.  Get back here."  Bewildered, she followed him and the woman to the farthest back empty table in the place.  

            "Sit," he said to both of them.  As they did, Judith could see that indeed the woman was not in good shape at all.  New and old bruises and welts covered her face.  She wasn't poorly dressed, but she seemed shabby and thrown together – and very dazed.  Judith tried not to stare, but she had never seen anyone who looked as terrible as this woman did – not in prison, not anywhere -- and she wanted to cry for her.

            "Judith, this is Ellie.  I want you to sit with her here for just a moment while I make a call."  Shifting a constant glance from both of them to the entrance, he went to the counter where he flashed his badge and was handed a phone.  

            "Ellie," Judith said reaching her hand out to the woman.  "Ellie, can I get anything for you?"

            The woman made no response whatsoever, and then Lennie was back at the table.

            "Leave now, please, Judith."

            "Leave?"

            "Yes.  Go back to your apartment.  I'll be there later."

            "When?"

            "Just go.  Now."

            Judith looked again at the woman.  There didn't seem to be anything she could do, and Lennie had made it plain that he didn't want her here.

            "Okay," she mumbled and gathered her bag and coat.

            Back in her apartment, she poured herself a glass of wine to steady her nerves and wondered just what it was she had witnessed and why Lennie had changed so completely right before her eyes.  She was pretty sure that he probably had slipped into work mode, but he'd never been that unpleasant to her – not even on the day he arrested her.  What in the world?

            It was probably about 90 minutes later that he rang her bell.  She let him in, and he didn't say anything.  He sat down on the couch, and he didn't say anything.  Judith couldn't stand it any longer.  "Ellie?  What hap. . . "

            "Ellie's gonna be dead in six months – if not less."

            "She's sick?"

            Lennie laughed very bitterly.  "No, she's not the one who's sick."

            She wanted to keep him talking.  "Who is?"

            "It's the fucked-up system that's sick!"

            "Um, how?"

            "You don't have a clue what went on out there, do you, Judith?"

            "You know I don't."

            "Well, let me explain it.  Ellie – Mrs. Mason – was beaten up, not once but over and over and over again."

            "That much I could tell."

            "It's the beatings you can't see are what's gonna kill her."

            "I don't understand."

            "No, of course you don't."

            Judith was trying to be patient but was getting annoyed at Lennie's attitude.  "You don't have to say it as if it were my fault."

            Lennie closed his eyes for a long minute and didn't say anything.   When he did, it was, "Get me a glass of wine."

            Judith was stunned.  "Lennie, I don't know how to respond to that."

            "You respond by getting me a glass of wine, that's how!"

            Judith was shaking and thought it best not to argue with him.  She started for the kitchen, but she heard Lennie give a great big sigh behind her, and he called her back.

            "Judith, I. . .  Look, I'm sorry.  Just make it ginger ale, okay?"

            "Yes, sure – okay."  

She thought it would be a good idea to remove her own wine glass from the coffee table and take it with her, but when she reached for it, he snapped, "Leave it!"

When she returned he had gotten up and was looking out the window on the other side of the room.  She brought him the ginger ale, and he turned and half-sat on the sill.  She went back to the couch.  He looked ruefully at his soda and then looked at her and she could see the want in his eyes.

She had one of her intuitive flashes and said, "I know what you're thinking."

A look of cynical amusement flickered across his face.  "So, Little Miss Empath strikes again?  Do tell me.  What am I thinking?"

Without missing a beat, she said, "You're wishing you had a real drink and a real woman."

He stared at her in some surprise, and she could tell she had been right on target.  He turned to look out the window again and sipped his ginger ale.  Judith didn't say anything, praying that he was working his way through whatever had come over him.

Finally, without turning around, he said, "Look, I know the way I'm behaving is rotten, and I expect I'll be doing some big time apologizing later.  Right now, I'm just really angry, and this is what happens."

"Can you help me understand why you're so angry?"

He did.  He returned to the couch and gave her a terse, almost toneless, crash course in what happened in cases like Ellie Mason's – how those beatings Judith didn't see were those administered by bad law.  He said he could have written the whole script almost from the moment he spotted them.  Severe domestic abuse.  Divorce or estrangement.  Still more beatings.  Restraining orders.  Some jail time for the man – maybe.  Release.  More beatings.  More restraining orders.  None of it making a damn bit of difference.  Lennie could see it in the man's eyes as soon as he encountered him.  He was going to kill Ellie.  Today or not.  But sooner or later.  It already was a done deal.

"But you reported him, right?  He violated a restraining order.  Won't he be arrested?"

"Yeah, for probably about three seconds."

"He looked really violent, Lennie.  Weren't you worried he could have hurt you or someone else besides Ellie?"

"A coward like that?  I doubt it.  He's got one target and one target only in mind.  Still, you never can be absolutely sure.  That's why I wanted you out of the way."

"So, what did you do with Ellie?"

"Arranged for her to be taken to a shelter.  I went along to her place with them to collect her kids and some of their stuff.  Wanted to be sure that the bastard wasn't waiting for her."

"Kids?  Oh, no!  They have kids?"

"Three."

"So, what happens now?"

"He'll kill her."

"But she's at the shelter."

"She'll have to leave eventually to make space for others, or she'll leave on her own.  It really doesn't matter.  He'll kill her, and there's not a damn thing anyone can do about it."

"I hope you're wrong."

"I'm not.  Guys on Death Row have a better chance than Ellie Mason.  Hell, people on a terminal cancer ward have a better chance than Ellie Mason."

"And no one can do anything at all about this?"

"If those bastards in Albany wanted to get off their fat asses, sure.  But it ain't gonna happen.  Probably not in my lifetime, and definitely not in time for Ellie Mason."

"That's what it would take?"

"That's what it would take," he answered resignedly.  "Like McCoy's always telling us, 'Write the legislature.'"  

They didn't say anything for a minute or so.  Finally, he sighed and said, "Well, you know what I really need right now?"

"I know what I hope it's not."

"No, don't worry.  I need to walk – walk for a good long time."

Judith thought that sounded like a good idea.  She used to do a lot of walking herself – round and round the perimeter at Beacon.  It helped.

"You want to walk by yourself, or do you want some company?"

He considered that.  "Company.  But you better realize that I'm not going to be very good company."

"That's okay.  Just let me change my shoes."

"Can we take your car?"

"I thought you wanted to walk."

"I want to walk at Battery Park."

"Isn't it a little cold for that?"

"The water's good.  It helps."

"Whatever.  I'll get an extra sweater, too."

So, they walked, and they walked.  Judith had trouble keeping up with Lennie, and he didn't seem to notice.  A couple times she just sat on a bench while he made another round.  Finally, when the afternoon was growing dusky, he joined her there.

"I guess it's time to start that apologizing now," he said sheepishly.

"I'm more interested in your feeling better than in your apologizing."

"Thanks, but I really am sorry.  I know I probably frightened you."

"Yes, you did."  

He didn't reply.

"Does this happen often, Lennie?"

"No, not often at all.  My girls used to call it "The Briscoe Storm," and they learned to keep out of my way when it struck."

"You'd get angry at them?"

"No, no – not at them.  Well, I mean, of course, of course I would be angry with them sometimes, but like parent and kids stuff – not like this."

"What's the difference?"

"This is. . .  Well, this is not angry at individuals.  Hell, I wasn't even angry at Ellie Mason's husband – sorry piece of crap isn't worth it.    What I get angry at is when people get hurt – when there's waste, incompetence, indifference.  When people could do something about it but they don't because they don't care or it's unpopular."

            "I can understand that, Lennie, but you did frighten me."

            "I hope you didn't think that I was angry with you."  

            "It got a little hard to tell for a few minutes there."

            He closed his eyes in real pain for a moment.  Then he took her hands.  "I know.  I was so angry that I was blind to everything else, and you were just in the way."

            "You know, one thing I learned at Beacon – we're all responsible for our own behavior.  We can't control what happens to us, but we're responsible for how we respond to it."

            "You're right, of course.  The only excuse I have is that it's never what happens to me – it's just when it happens to others and I can't do anything about it."  

            "So, who's the empath now?"

            "You've got me there."

            "Maybe it's what we have in common.  It's only that I cry and you get angry."

            "You got angry – at least once."

            "And you've got me there."

            "I guess we're a mess, Judith."

            "You?  You're one of the most together people I've ever met."

            "Then why did I treat you the way I did this afternoon?"

            "As you said, because I was there."

            "And that was wrong."

            "In the scheme of what you were dealing with, it's inconsequential.  I understand that now."

            "I can't guarantee it won't ever happen again."

            "At least now I'll recognize it."

            The flowers and box of Godiva that arrived at the gallery the next day weren't necessary, but Judith and Lennie sure had a good time on the couch that night eating the chocolate.

            One evening about a month later, he dropped a piece of paper into her lap.  It was a photocopy of the first page of a homicide report from the 116th Precinct.  Ellie Mason.  Lennie didn't say a word about it.  Judith watched for signs of  "The Briscoe Storm," but as far as she could tell he went about the evening normally.  They never mentioned Ellie Mason again.

            Now, watching Lennie as he drove, Judith could sense the white-hot fury in him.  She decided it might be best to take a page from the Briscoe girls' book and leave him alone for a while – at least until she saw any opportunity to be able to help him.

            Mercifully, Judith did nod off before they passed Beacon, so she didn't have to worry about that.  When she did wake, it was with a start.  She wasn't used to being in a car at interstate speeds.  In fact, she hardly could remember being on such a long road trip.  The last time was when she and Steven had driven to Nova Scotia, but that seemed like a lifetime ago.

            Lennie glanced at her.  "Hungry?" he asked absently.

            "I could be, and it might be a good idea to stretch your legs."

            "Yeah.  Next chance."

            He did not say anything again for the next ten or twelve miles that it took them to find an exit with fast food places.  They pulled into the parking lot of a McDonald's, but Lennie continued to sit, still clutching the steering wheel.

            Judith already had opened her door.  "Lennie," she said hesitantly.  "Are we getting out?"

            He didn't say anything for a moment.  "Judith, who could do something like this?"

            "Do you really know yet what happened?"

            "I know enough.  From what Julia said."

            Judith didn't want to tell Lennie what he should be thinking, but she did venture,  "It's Jake and Julia who need you now.   Do you want to call her and see how he is?"

            "No.  No.  I did think about that, but I just couldn't stand, if. . .  No.   Let's wait until we get there."

            "Okay.  I, um, hate to point out the obvious, but we are stopped.  Let's go ahead and get something, okay?"

            "Yeah – sure."  And he finally did let go of the steering wheel.

            When they were back on the road about fifteen minutes later, Lennie lapsed again into silence.  For his sake, Judith wanted them to be in Glens Falls soon, but she had to admit to herself that she wasn't at all looking forward to arriving there.  Probably Lennie would just leave her at a motel.  That would be fine.  Yes, that would work.  And then he could just go ahead and go on to the hospital.  Surely that would be best.  She wanted to ask him what would happen when they arrived, but she just didn't think it would be a good idea to start a conversation with him right now.  Maybe when they got closer, maybe when they were almost there, he would tell her what he wanted to do.

            Judith didn't want to think because all she did when she thought about this situation was worry.  She had tucked a novel and several art magazines into her bag in the back seat, but she didn't think she could concentrate, and Lennie might think her insensitive if she tried to distract herself.  _Judith, for God's sake, she told herself.  Could you possibly think of anything stupider to worry about?"_   

            Worry.  She sometimes thought that "worry" should be her middle name – and first and last.  Worry-worry-worry.  Her mother was a worrier.  Her father had been a worrier.  She supposed she came by it honestly.  Of course, they had things really to worry about.  She had understood that once she had understood about the camps.  One of the things they had worried so much about was Judith's being scarred by their experiences.  If they could have kept her from ever knowing, they would have.  But who could not know?  Who wouldn't have asked why the three of them had no family?

            Still, Judith often found most peculiar the things her mother could find to worry about.  She had to suppress a smile when she thought about the day her mother had found out about Lennie.  It wasn't funny really, but it was so typically her mother.

            During a phone conversation several months ago, Judith felt she needed to explain why she hadn't been visiting as often as she had been when she first left the halfway house.

            "So?  You are seeing a man?  Judith, that is a good thing."

            "I think so, too, Mother.  He's a lot of fun."

            "Well, fun, you know, fun is not the most important thing.  Tell me about him.  What does he do?"

            Actually, that is why she hadn't already said something to her mother about Lennie.  She knew that his job might be a hard sell.  Her parents were the most law-abiding people on earth – growing up, Judith would never dare even to think about throwing a candy wrapper on the street – but they did have a visceral aversion to authority figures, especially ones in uniform.  And Judith could understand that all too well, but she was sure – well, she hoped anyway that her mother could make exceptions for individuals.

            "He works for the city," she hedged, wanting to approach this topic slowly.

            "Oh, that is nice.  What does he do exactly?"

            Judith closed her eyes and said, "He's a detective."

            "For the city?  But why. . . ?  Judith, you do not mean he's a _police_ detective?"

            "Yes, Mother.  That's what he is?"

            "But, Judith. . .   Judith, where would you ever meet such a person?"

            This wasn't going exactly the way Judith had planned.  She had hoped first to get her mother used to the idea of Lennie's being with the NYPD and later get around to this question.  She briefly considered going with the supermarket story, but her mother only would be angry later if Judith were less than truthful with her now.  

            "Well, Mother, we both know that I have some prior acquaintance with the police."

            "But, he's not. . .  He could not be one of those who. . . "

            Just then Lennie rang the bell.  Well, this is just getting better and better, Judith thought as she let him in, still talking to her mother.

            "Yes, Mother – one in the same."  She put her hand over the mouthpiece and whispered to Lennie.  "It's my mother.  I'll be off soon – I hope."

            He wandered off to the kitchen as her mother's voice grew shrill.

            "Judith!  How could such a thing happen?  You should not be going out with this person!  Judith, this is not a good thing at all!"

            "Mother, he's a very nice man."

            "No, Judith, listen to me.  This is bad, very bad.  I know I never told you very much about this, but, Judith, in the camps, there were some girls. . . "  Her mother's voice trailed off.  She was obviously very distressed.

            "Mother, what in the world are you talking about?"

            "These girls – with the guards. . . "

            "I don't believe I'm hearing this!  For heaven's sake, Mother!"  Judith was pacing around her living room now, and Lennie, curious, came to the kitchen doorway.

            "And, later, Judith, a few years back – you remember?  Those hostages in Stockholm?  It is the same thing like that, and it's. . . "

            Judith didn't often interrupt her mother, but now she just had to.  "Mother!  That is not the same thing at all!  Those two things probably even aren't the same thing."

            "How is it different?  You just tell me that, Judith.  How is this thing you are doing different?"

            Judith paced and smacked her hand against her forehead.  "It's different because, in the first place, those other people were victims.  If you recall, I was not."

            "You were a victim, Judith.  That man Richard Peterson. . . "

            Judith interrupted again.  "Not again, please, Mother.  We have been through this too many times."  Judith's mother never could understand Judith's wanting to take responsibility for her part in what had happened to Stephen Campbell.  To her mother, it was all just some horrible mistake.

            "Those police persons, Judith.  They never should have arrested you.  They didn't understand."

            "They were doing their jobs," Judith pointed out, wearying of this conversation.

            "These are not good people, Judith.  They didn't care about the truth.  You must send this man away at once.  This is not a good situation for you."

            "Mother, I'm sorry.  I can't talk any more with you about this right now.  You are too upset."

            "He's there with you, Judith?  Is that man with you in your apartment?"

            "Yes, Mother," she sighed.

            "You must send him away now.  If he won't go, you must call. . . "

            Judith waited.  "Yes, Mother?  Whom must I call?"

            "Well. . . "

            "You see how ridiculous you are being?"

            "Now you are calling me ridiculous?"

            "No, I didn't say you are ridiculous, but you have a ridiculous notion about this."

            "You will see that I am right.  Judith, this is not good for you at all."

            "No, Mother.  It's very good for me."

            "You must. . . "

            "Mother, I can't talk to you any more about this right now.  Why don't you think about it overnight, and I'll call you tomorrow.  Okay?"

            "You are the one who must think, Judith."

            "Okay, I'll think.  But right now I have to go."

            'To that man?  You shouldn't. . . "

            "Please, Mother – I don't want to have to hang up on you."

            "You would do that?  To your own mother?"

            "No, of course not.  But I am going to say 'goodbye' now."

            When she finally managed to end the conversation, she sat on the couch threw her head back, and let out a frustrated growl.  Lennie sat beside her.

            "They can make you crazy sometimes, can't they?" he observed.

            "You have no idea."

            "Oh, I think I do," he chuckled.  "From both sides.  So, is it just my self-centered imagination, or was I the topic of conversation?"

            "I just told her about you."

            "What's the problem?  I'm not Jewish enough?"

            "Oh, we didn't even get to that yet."

            "So, why's she upset?"

            "It's what you do – for openers."

            "She doesn't like cops?"

            "Yes, that's it exactly."

            "Another fan of New York's Finest, eh?  What's she got against us?"

            "You have to understand, Lennie – people like my parents. . .   Well, police, the military, anything like that can bring back some really bad memories."

            "Yeah, I guess I can understand that.  I really can.  Any chance she could get past that – at least in my case?"

            "That's what I was hoping.  And I think she could have."

            "Could have?"

            Judith sighed deeply.  "Yes, I think I could have brought her around to making an exception, but you're not just any cop."

            "You told her about that?"

            "I wasn't going to – at least not at first – but right off the bat she asks how we met."

            "Oh."

            "Yeah – oh.  She's worried that I have Stockholm Syndrome."

            "Stockholm Syndrome?  You mean that thing with the hostages and. . . "

            "Yes."

            "Is she serious?"

            "Oh, she's serious all right."

            "But that's. . . "

            "Crazy.  Yes, I know."

            Judith could see that Lennie was trying to keep from smiling.  "Did your shrink ever say you have Stockholm Syndrome?"

            "Even he's not that crazy."

            "Do you think you have Stockholm Syndrome, Judith?"

            "Of course not."

            Now they both were trying to suppress smiles.

            "This isn't funny, Judith."

            "No, it isn't funny.  Not at all."

            "Not one bit."

            Then they lost the battle and gave into out loud laughter.  Lennie wiped his eyes and said, "I'm sorry.  We shouldn't be sitting here laughing about your mother."

            "No, we shouldn't.  I know.  But, God – Stockholm Syndrome?  The things she worries about!  It makes me crazy sometimes."

            "Are you going to be able to bring her around?"

            "I don't know.  She wanted me to call the police to get rid of you."

            "Now you really are joking."

            "No, I'm really not."  And they both dissolved in giggles again at the thought.

            When he recovered himself, Lennie said, "Well, she sounds like quite a character.  Think you can bring her around enough that she'd be willing to meet me sometime?"

            "I'm going to try.  I'll talk to her again tomorrow.  I'm sure she'll eventually back down – preferably before I completely lose my mind."

            It took at least a couple of weeks of convincing, but finally Judith's mother did come around, and when she finally met Lennie, she did have to concede both that Judith was in a healthy relationship and that he was a nice man.

            Now, speeding north towards Glens Falls, Judith wondered if things would go as smoothly with Julia.  _Damn it, Judith, she told herself, you're worrying about the wrong thing again._  But she couldn't help it.  She'd be just as happy not to have to meet Julia at all – at least not right now, not under the present circumstances.  And what if. . . 

            She apparently had nodded off again because Lennie was shaking her shoulder and saying, "We're here."

                                                End Chapter Three.  Go to Chapter Four --------


	4. Chapter Four

A LOT OF TROUBLE

Chapter Four

            "Here?  Where?" mumbled Judith as she rubbed her eyes.

            "At the hospital."

            She was awake instantly.  No, this wasn't right.  This wasn't how it was supposed to happen.

            "Lennie, are you sure?"

            He was already getting out of the car and turned to stare at her.  "Sure about what?"

            "Me.  I mean, do you want me here?"

            "I asked you to come, didn't I?"  And he got out and started toward the building.

            Judith had to scramble out of the car and run to catch up with him.  When she did, he said, "Don't go all phobic on me now, Judith."

            "No, it's not that.  It's just. . .   Is this the best time?"

            "We don't seem to have any choice about that."

            He wasn't getting it and apparently was not going to.  She had no choice except to try and keep up with him.

            They found out that Intensive Care was on the fourth floor.  Judith almost couldn't get on the elevator – an elevator in a hospital.  Two phobias in one.  She made a major effort not to let the panic show.  As they got off the elevator, Lennie clutched her arm tightly and it sank in that he really did need her support.

            In the waiting area, a young man was stretching on a couch as if he'd just woken up.

            "Bill!" called Lennie, as he recognized his son-in-law.

            "Lennie – you're here."

            The two men embraced, and Lennie asked about Jake.

            "The same as when Julia talked to you.  Stable.  That's all they're saying."

            "How's Julia holding up?"

            "About like you'd expect.  She won't leave him, but I try to get her to come out here and take little breaks now and then."

            Judith was trying to look inconspicuous, but she could tell that the son-in-law was wondering who she was.  

            Fortunately, Lennie remembered she was there and mumbled an introduction.  

            "Miss Sandler," Bill said, shaking her hand.  "Thank you for coming up here with Lennie."  And it didn't seem to Judith that the young man thought her presence was strange in the least, and she was grateful for that.

            "I'm so very sorry about what's happened to your son."

            "Thank you.  Lennie, you want to go in?  Julia is going to be really glad you're here.  They're only letting two people at a time in with him right now."

            "Yeah.  I gotta see them."

            Bill directed Lennie to the room and rejoined her.   "You may as well sit down, Miss Sandler.  I'm afraid you've let yourself in for a lot of waiting."

            "That's okay.  And it's 'Judith,' please.  I just hope everything will be okay."

            "We all do.  So, how's he doing?"

            "I don't know exactly.  He hasn't said much, but I know he's very worried – and very angry."

            "Yes, that would be Lennie.  I'm glad you've been with him.  Terrible time to be alone.  You know him long?"

            "Um," Judith was trying to figure out how to answer that one.  Well, we've been, um, going out for about six months."

            "Then you probably know about Julia's sister?"

            She nodded.

            "That's why this is doubly hard on both of them."

            "Yes, I've been thinking about that."

            "Will you be okay here?  I've got to go make a call.  We're having trouble getting in touch with Julia's mother, and I promised her I'd try again."

            Julia's mother!  That was an aspect of this Judith hadn't considered.  Oh, God!  Lennie's ex!  But of course she would be here.  Jake was her grandson, too.

            "You can't reach her?" Judith asked dully.

            "She and her husband are in London.  They've gone to the country, and their hotel doesn't know how to reach them.  We're hoping they're back by now."

            "Yes, yes – of course.  Go make your call.  I'll be fine."

            London, _England_, Judith prayed.  Or better yet, London, Madagascar – if there was a London there.  And then she realized that was very selfish.  She knew that Julia probably needed her mother very much right now.  She just hoped she'd be somewhere else when the woman arrived.  And maybe Jake would be just fine, and maybe she wouldn't have to come at all.  But the somber atmosphere of Intensive Care left little room for that hope – at least that it was going to be anytime soon.  She leaned back and closed her eyes and wondered how Lennie was doing in the room with Jake and Julia.

            In a few minutes Bill returned, looking slightly relieved.

            "I. . .  I guess you reached them."

            "Yes, thank God.  She's going to get a flight as soon as she can."

            Julia tried to calculate how long that and the travel time might take.

            Just then Lennie emerged from the room with Julia.  Judith could recognize her from pictures.  Lots of dark curly hair.

            "Bill?  Go sit with him, please.  I'll be right back in."

            As they passed each other, Bill briefly hugged his wife and told her about reaching her mother.

            "Judith," said Julia, extending her hand.  "Dad told me about your coming up here with him.  It's great that you were willing to do that.  Thank you."

            These people kept thanking her, Judith thought in a bit of a daze.  Why?  

            "Julia," she finally managed, "I'm so sorry about your little boy."

            "We're hoping he's going to be okay."  And Judith could see that the young woman was making a great effort to convince herself of that.

            Lennie hadn't said anything, and he was positively white.  Judith ached for him.

            "Dad?  Dad, you going to be okay?"

            "Yeah, we'll be back a little later.  I promise."

            "Okay."  And they hugged.

            As soon as Lennie's back was turned, Julia grabbed Judith's arm and waited until her father was a few steps away from them.  She looked at Judith intently, as if measuring her, and said in a low voice, "Watch out for him.  Please."

            Judith nodded and caught up with Lennie at the elevator.

            "What'd she say to you?"

            "She's just worried about you."

            "She shouldn't be."

            "You're all worried about each other.  That's only natural."

            On the way out of the hospital, Lennie stopped at a phone.  He didn't make a call but looked at the phonebook.  Judith supposed he was looking up a motel.

            Outside, he sat on a low wall for a minute and was taking deep breaths of the cool air.  Judith sat beside him.

            "So, how is he?"

            "He's in and out of it.  I think he recognized me, but I don't know if he'll remember."

            "He's conscious then.  I'm sure that's a good thing."

            "They say it is."

            "Hang on to that."

            "Yeah.  Well, let's get going.  I have a few calls to make."

            "Calls to make?  What are you talking about?"

            "I'm going to find out why this son-of-a-bitch is not behind bars."

            Judith didn't think that was a very good idea but didn't think it would be prudent to say so.  She was sure that nothing was going to deter him.

            They drove, as Judith had suspected they would, straight to the Glens Falls Police Department.

            "You want me to wait here for you here, Lennie?"

            "No.  Why would I?"

            Oh, great.  A police station – another one of her favorite places.  Inside, Lennie showed his badge to a startled desk sergeant and demanded to see a Detective Mills.  The policeman pointed to an office, and Lennie strode to it.  Judith could hear just snatches of the conversation which started off civilly enough but rapidly deteriorated into a shouting match.  Judith could just imagine.  She could understand why this local detective probably was not taking kindly to Lennie's having barged in.  She also knew, however, that there was going to be no other way Lennie could act.  He felt helpless in the situation, she was sure, and this was his way of doing something about it.  Well, who knows? she thought.  Maybe he can help.  She prayed that at least maybe he wouldn't hurt the case.

            After a few minutes, Lennie and the detective emerged, and the latter slammed his office door.  They headed for the entrance, and Judith, bewildered, followed them.

            The detective got in one of the Glens Falls cars, and she and Lennie got in her car and followed him.

            "Where are we going?" she asked.

            "To the scene.  To the place where. . .   To the place where Jake was hit."

            "Are you sure you want to do this?"

            "It's the only thing I can do."

            They drove to a little lane in a residential area where the men stopped the cars.  There was a lot of yellow tape and a chalk outline.  Judith didn't know how Lennie could stand to do this.  The men got out of their cars, but Judith waited.  She watched as they did a lot of pointing and squinting in different directions from various angles.  She supposed they knew what they were doing.  At least they weren't shouting any longer.

            After about twenty minutes of this, they returned to the cars and drove in different directions.

            "And, um, where are we headed now, Lennie?"

            "First to get some lunch and then find us a place to stay.  And then I'm going to leave you there for a bit while I go talk to some people.  When I'm ready to go back to the hospital, I'll come get you.  Okay?"

            He sounded more normal than he had since last night, so she was glad to agree.  Probably he felt better now that he was doing something.

            "Julia said we could stay at the house, but I didn't think that was a good idea."

            "You're right.  She doesn't need a stranger in her home right now."

            And that's pretty much how it went for the afternoon, evening, and the next morning.  Lennie would leave her and go she didn't know where, but he would always come back and get her before he checked at the hospital.  It seemed he didn't want to go there alone.  Jake was pretty much the same, but the doctors said that in itself was a good thing, but that otherwise they would just have to wait until swelling went down before they could offer any sort of prognosis.  As to the hit-and-run driver, Lennie said that all that they were sure about was that it had been a woman, that she knew she had hit Jake, and that she most likely was a local resident.  Beyond that, Lennie didn't explain much, and Judith didn't probe him for details.  She was just glad that he seemed so much more like himself than he did on the trip up.

            The second afternoon, Judith and Julia were talking in the waiting area while Bill and Lennie were in with Jake.  Julia was somewhat concerned about her father's taking part in the investigation but agreed with Judith that there probably was not a thing they could do about it.

            "There's absolutely no use, Judith.  Once he gets something in his head like that, there's nothing that can stop him.  Just go along for the ride, and please try to keep him from doing anything really overboard."

            Judith promised to try but wondered how effective she possibly could be if it came to that.

            A woman entered the waiting area and rushed towards them.  "Julia!" she said.

            Julia jumped up and hugged the woman.  "Oh, Mom, I am so glad you are here!"          "Shhhh, shhh, sweetie.  I know.  I know it's been awful.  Any change since I called you from the airport?"

            Oh, God, thought Judith.  Make me disappear right now.  She had an impression of fur, perfume, and a lot of gold.  She never really had any particular picture of what Lennie's ex-wife might look like, but this she never would have imagined.

            The women were no longer embracing, and Julia's mother looked at her curiously.  "A friend of yours, darling?"

            "Um, Mom," she began, and Judith could tell that Julia was wishing she were not there as well.  "Mom, this is Judith Sandler.  She's um. . .  She came up here with Daddy.  Judith, this is my mother Gloria Baines."

            The woman looked at her incredulously and then turned to her daughter.  "Do you mean to tell me that he actually brought one of his. . . "

            "Mom!" Julia protested.  "Not now.  Okay?  Please!  Let's just go see Jake, okay?"  

            She led her mother toward Jake's room, but not before Gloria gave Judith one more very unpleasant look."

            Julia mouthed to her, "I'm sorry."

            When the two women went into the room, Bill came out.  Judith, she was sure, probably had her mouth still open.  She knew she was burning red.

            Bill sat down next to her.  "I take it you've had the pleasure," he observed.

            "I knew this might be kind of awkward, but what in. . . "

            "I know, I know.  She can be kind of hard to take sometimes.  She comes across as very brittle at first, but she's really not a bad person.  But, I gotta tell you, I've never seen any two people who could push each others' buttons the way she and Lennie do.  Makes for some very interesting family get-togethers."

            "My God – I should think so."

            Lennie came out of Jake's room and told Bill that they'd be back a little bit later.

            On the way out, she said, "Lennie, you just got here a little while ago.  Are you sure you don't want to stay longer?"

            "Not right now.  Jake saw Gloria and me together.  He knows we're both here, and that's enough.  Look, I don't know what she said to you, but I'm sure she said something, and I'm sorry."

            "You're not responsible for her."

            "No, but I am for putting you in this situation."

            "I can handle myself," she said with more confidence than she felt.  "Don't worry about me.  You have enough going on."

            "It really does help having you here, you know."

            Judith couldn't imagine how.  She hadn't done anything at all to help the situation, but it was the first personal thing Lennie had said to her since the night before last.  She was grateful for it, but ironically she didn't know how to respond.

            "Well," she said awkwardly, "please let me know if there's anything more I can be doing for you."

            He put an arm around her and squeezed.  "Thanks."

            "Lennie, I know this probably isn't the time, but can I ask you something?"

            "Sure."

            "You and. . .   You and Gloria.  I can't see it, you know?"

            He smiled briefly in a sort of rueful way.  "I know, I know.  I don't quite get it myself.  All I can tell you is that she wasn't always what you see now, but it is how she wanted to be."

            "Sorry.  I just got curious."

            "I don't blame you.  Look, Judith, I know I haven't been paying much attention to you, but. . . "

            "Lennie, for heaven's sake.  I know we're not up here on a vacation.  I'm fine.  As I said before, you have enough to worry about."

            "I'll make it up to you."

            "There's nothing to make up."

            And so it went on for the next several days.  She'd go to the hospital with Lennie, he'd drop her off at the motel, or he might occasionally take her back to the police station with him if he needed to stop there, and then he'd go off and come back and get her later.  She asked him what he was doing when he went off, but all he replied was, "Talking to people."   What kind of progress he and/or the local police might be making, she had no idea.

            News about Jake seemed to be encouraging.  Apparently he was remaining conscious for longer periods of time and was having feeling where he should be having feeling.  Lennie's worst times, Judith could tell, came right after seeing Jake.  She herself hadn't yet seen the boy, but she could imagine how awful it would be to look at a small child with such terrible injuries.  Lennie would be white-faced and grim until he got back out in the air.

It seemed to Judith that he was trying to time their visits to the hospital to avoid Gloria, but he never said so directly.  Several times they were there when she was.  She would glare at Judith but never spoke – which was fine with Judith.  One morning as Lennie and Judith were about to leave the hospital, Gloria came out of Jake's room and put her hand on his arm.

            "I need to speak with you, Lennie – alone."  And it was not a request.  My God, the woman is like ice, Judith thought.

            Judith mumbled that she would wait for him in the car, but he said, "No.  Please, just sit down.  I'll only be a minute."

            Gloria seemed displeased by that, and she and Lennie moved to a corner of the waiting area.  They didn't raise their voices, but Judith could tell from watching Lennie's face that it was not a pleasant conversation.  A couple times he did try to move away from her, but she kept talking.  He finally managed to disengage himself, and he grabbed Judith and headed for the elevator.  She raised her eyebrows at him.

            "Just the usual Gloria crap.  Believe me, you don't want to know."

            And Judith was sure she didn't.

            One afternoon Judith was thumbing through a magazine in the waiting area while Lennie was with Jake and Julia.  They had had some very good news about Jake.  He'd soon be out of Intensive Care, and the doctors said that they were guardedly optimistic that with a lot of therapy there was a good chance he would recover completely from his injuries.  Although the kid had a long road ahead of him, the whole atmosphere had visibly lightened, and Judith was very thankful.  

            Suddenly, Lennie came out of Jake's room like a bolt and called to Judith, "Let's go!  Now!"  

            Judith wondered if something terrible had happened with Jake and grabbed her things and caught up to Lennie at the elevator.

            "Jake – is he. . . "

            "He's fine."

            "Then what's going on?"

            He didn't answer, and Judith could sense that the fury in which he'd driven from the city had returned.

            In the car, she just couldn't stand it and thought she had to make him talk to her.  "Lennie, what's happened?  Where are we going?"

            "They've got the bitch," he said grimly.

            "Did Detective Mills call you?"

            "No."

            "Then how did you find out?"

            He didn't answer, and she was getting scared.

            "Lennie, tell me what's going on," she said insistently.

            "Like I said, they caught her."

            "Where's Mills?"

            "He's out on another call right now."

            "So, who told you this?"

            He looked at her sideways, as if deciding how much to tell her.  "Well, Mills wasn't being real cooperative, so I developed my own sources."

            "Like who?"

            "A young uniform.  Same thing happened to his kid brother a few years ago."

            "So, let me get this straight. . .  Mills himself might not even know yet that this woman has been arrested?"

            Lennie shrugged.  "Could be."

            "And don't you think you better wait for him?"

            "No."

            Judith didn't at all like what she was hearing.  In fact, she was pretty sure that Lennie was deliberately trying to beat Mills to the woman.  And there had to be a whole lot of reasons why that probably wasn't a very good idea.

            She started to ask Lennie about that, but they were at the police station, and Lennie already was out of the car.  He didn't seem to care if she came with him or not, but Judith decided she better keep him in sight.  She remembered what Julia said about not letting him go "really overboard," and she was very much afraid that that was what was happening right now.  

            She ran after him into the station where he barged once more right past the desk sergeant who didn't even any longer try to stop him.  She followed and saw that he apparently had found the young policeman he was looking for.

            "Where is she?" he demanded.

            The policeman indicated a glassed room with partially closed Venetian blinds.  Judith couldn't see the occupant plainly, but she had an impression of a woman maybe a little older than Julia miserably slumped in a chair at a table.

            Lennie started for the room, and Judith grabbed his arm.  "Lennie, no!  Wait!"

            "Let go, Judith!" he snapped and tried to shake her off, but she hung on.

            "No!  I've got to talk to you right now!  It's important!"

            "Not now!  I'm busy.  Go wait outside."

            "No!" she insisted, still holding tightly to his arm and trying to stand her ground.

            A number of people were staring at them, but Judith didn't pay any attention.

            "Judith," Lennie pleaded, "don't make a scene."

            "I goddamn will make a scene if you don't sit down and talk to me right fucking now!"

            That shocked him, and he stared at her in some surprise.

            "All right.  What is it?  Make it quick."

            "Sit down, Lennie."  And she steered him to a bench at the edge of the hallway, and still didn't let go of his arm.

            "Well, what is it?"

            "Lennie, are you sure you should be doing this?"

            "With all due respect, you have no idea what this sorry piece of crap has done.  She was speeding, likely drinking.  She knew damn well that she hit Jake because she got out of her car to look at him.  And she never called anyone – never got him any help.  And you, for Christ's sake, know as well as I do what that kid is going through right now, and I'm sure as hell going to make sure that she knows it, too.  Now, don't interfere!"

            "It's you who's interfering, Lennie!"  Judith was trying to sound reasonable, but she knew her voice was shaking.

            He made an impatient sound and started to get up.  Judith did the only thing she could think of.  She threw herself on to his lap and pinned him against the back of the bench.

            "Judith!"  He tried to push her off.  "Don't make me hurt you!"

            "Go ahead!  Hurt me!  Right here in a police station!  I'll have them arrest you!  Either way you are not going into that room until you listen to what I have to say!"

            He tried to dislodge her and said, "Judith, I'm really getting. . .  "

            "Shut up, Lennie!  Just listen, will you?  Think what you are doing!  If you go in there and take off on that woman, just what do you suppose her defense lawyer is going to do with that?  Remember what happened in my case?  You of all people, for crying out loud, should know what lawyers and judges can do with things like that.  You really want her out and walking around – hell, driving around again – instead of being punished for what she did to Jake?  You know it could happen – you do!  And think about Detective Mills.  Maybe you don't like him, but put yourself in his shoes for a moment.  How would you like it if a grandfather blinded by grief and anger wrecked a case of yours?  Because that's all you are right now, Lennie – a very hurting grandfather.  Stay out of the way, and let these people do their jobs."

            She couldn't tell if she was getting through to him or not as she could still see the fury in his eyes, and he impatiently was pushing at her again.

            "Look, Lennie, I'll tell you what.  You see that clock on the wall?  You watch that second hand.  Take ninety seconds and think about what I've said.  Please!  After ninety seconds, if you still want to go in that room, I'll let you up and I won't say another word.  Ninety seconds, okay?  She's not going anywhere.  You can wait ninety seconds."

            He didn't say anything but did glance at the clock.  Judith didn't know if he really did intend to think about what she said or just thought that would be the quickest way to get rid of her.  He closed his eyes, and she leaned her head against his.  She watched the clock and prayed this would work because she knew he'd never forgive himself if he damaged this case.  Now he was alternately watching the clock and glancing at the woman in the room.

            The ninety seconds was up.  Lennie wasn't making any moves, and she thought that some of the tension had left his body.  She looked at him, and he almost imperceptibly nodded, signaling, she hoped, that she had won.

            Just as she was wondering whether it would be safe to let him up, there was a commotion in the lobby, and they heard someone shouting.  "Where is that son-of-a-bitch Briscoe?!?  His car is outside, and I swear to God that if he screws with this. . . "  And then Detective Mills burst into the hallway and saw them.

            Judith suddenly felt very ridiculous sitting on Lennie's lap, and she as inconspicuously as possible moved off him.

            "Briscoe, if you've done anything, anything at all. . . "

            Lennie shook his head and stood up.  "Just waiting for you, Mills.  It's your case.  Just put her away.  Okay?"   He turned to Judith and said, "Let's go."

            In the car, Judith and Lennie just sat for few minutes, not saying anything.  Finally, he began, "Judith. . . " but she held up her hand to stop him and shook her head.  She just didn't want to hear about it right now – maybe not ever.  She right now just wanted to get away from this place.

            "Let's go back to the hospital, okay?  I'm sure Julia must be wondering about you."

            He looked at her for a long moment and then started the car.

            At the hospital while Lennie was with Jake, Julia came out of his room and joined Judith in the waiting area.  

            "You know, before you and Daddy got back here, Detective Mills called.  He told me what happened at the station."

            "Julia, look – I'm sorry, but I really don't want to talk about this.  I just don't know how your father's going to. . . "

            "You saved Dad's butt, Judith.  Don't think he doesn't know that."

            "I honest to God don't know what he thinks."

            "But I do," said Julia smiling, and then she returned to Jake's room.

            By that evening, everything returned to nearly normal.  Julia and Bill were visibly more relaxed, and Lennie was far more like his old self.  And Gloria – even Gloria agreed to sit with Jake while Julia, Bill, Lennie, and Judith went out to eat to celebrate Jake's imminent release from Intensive Care.  And no one mentioned either the police station or the woman now in custody there.

            Late the next afternoon, Judith was in a waiting area of the Children's Wing.  It was, she thought, a vast improvement over Intensive Care.  Someone actually had gone to the trouble to make this place look as un-hospital like as possible.  This was definitely going to be much better for Jake and everyone.

            Julia came out of Jake's new room and beckoned to her.  "Judith, come in.  I think it's time you met Jake."

            "Oh, Julia, I don't know if that's a good idea.  That poor kid probably has met enough strangers in the past week to last him until he's in college."

            "Nah, don't worry about that.  Dad has told him all about the nice lady who came up here with him from the city.  Jake's been asking when he can see you."

            Still reluctant to intrude, Judith said, "I don't want to upset, um, anyone."

            "My mother?" Julia smiled.  "Don't worry – she just called to say that she's doing some shopping, and, believe me, that could take quite some time."

            "Well, then, sure I'd like to meet Jake.  He must be a brave little kid."

            "One thing, Judith – he doesn't. . .   Well, right now, he doesn't look much like my little boy, but they tell us that most of what looks the worst is superficial and will heal naturally."

            Judith nodded.  "I understand."

            When she entered the room, Lennie was leaning over Jake's bed and talking to him with an enormous smile on his face.  "The dinosaurs?  Yeah, sure, kid, we'll see the dinosaurs."  He looked up to see Judith.  "Jake, look who's here.  This is Judith, the lady I've been telling you about.  Judith, come here and meet Jake."

            Judith approached the bed.  "Hi, Jake," she said gently.

            "Hi," the boy responded through swollen lips.  "Grandpa likes you."

            The child looked small, white, and very banged up.  Judith could only imagine how he must have looked when Lennie first saw him last week.  She had to make a very determined effort to keep tears from welling up.  "I. . .  I like your grandpa, too," she told him.

            Jake shifted the gaze of his bruised eyes back to Lennie.  "Statue of Liberty?  There, too?"

            "Jake's planning a little trip to New York when he gets better, Judith.  Big plans this kid has.  Yes, of course, the Statue of Liberty – definitely."

            "And to the top?  You'll take me all the way to the top?"

            Lennie groaned slightly and laughed.  "I think maybe that's one bit of fun I'll leave to your dad.  But I will ride the ferry to the Statue with you."

            "A ferry?  All right!"

            And that's how it went.  Judith and Lennie chatted lightly with Jake about the sights of the city for another ten minutes or so until a nurse stepped in and suggested that it might be time for Jake to get some rest.  Lennie kissed him gently on his forehead through bandages and told him they'd be back in the morning.

            Outside the room, Lennie's resolute cheerfulness dropped away, but at least now he didn't look as white and grim as he had been looking after visiting Jake.  Now he just looked sad.

            "He's a good kid, Lennie."

            "Yeah – yeah, he is.  Still, I wish. . . "

            "I know."

            "Let's get out of here.  It's about dinnertime."

            Dinner.  Well, that was going to be interesting, thought Judith.  They had eaten with Julia and Bill last night and so hadn't spoken much directly to each other.  Back at the motel, there wasn't much said either, and they both fell asleep quite early.  Judith couldn't tell how upset Lennie might be, but he certainly did seem to have been avoiding her.

            And now there would have to be some sort of conversation.  Unless maybe they picked a noisy fast food place.  That was possible.  Lennie had no aversion to fast food.

            In the car, Judith was very surprised when they drove past the town limits.  After a few miles, she asked curiously, "Where are we going?"

            "You'll see.  It's a place Julia recommended."

            After about ten more miles, she wondered aloud, "Julia goes this far to eat?"

            "Occasionally."

            Another ten miles or so, and then they crossed the Vermont border.

            "Vermont?  What are we doing in Vermont, Lennie?"

            "You have something against Vermont?"

            "Of course not.  It just seems like a heck of a long way to go to grab dinner."

            "I think we've done enough 'grabbing' of meals for a while, don't you?"

            "Well, last night was very nice."

            "Yes, it was.  But not like tonight."

            "Why not?"

            "Too many people around last night."

            So, he was looking for a quiet place to chew her out?  Was that it?  He might have found one closer than this.

            "This is it."  And he pulled into the parking lot of one of those Vermont inns that couldn't be other than preceded by the adjective "charming" or maybe even "romantic."

            "Lennie, what's going on?"

            He stared at her.  "Are you still after all these months having trouble with the concept of going out to eat?  I thought we cleared that one up."

            Judith was confused.  Why was he teasing her?

            Lennie sighed.  "My God, drive her across the state line and she ditzes out.  Dare I ask what would happen if we went to Canada?  So, how about doing what we came here for?  You know, eating out?"

            "Oh.  Oh, yes – okay."

            The interior of the inn did not belie the view from the outside.  "Cozy" could join that list of adjectives easily.  Judith was still trying to figure out why they were there.  It just wasn't the sort of place a guy would take a woman who recently had royally ticked him off, not to mention embarrassing him in front of professional colleagues probably more than he'd ever been in his whole career.

            Without asking her, Lennie ordered wine for her and club soda for himself, and he told the waiter that they would be waiting a little while to order dinner.

            They drank to a quick and complete recovery for Jake, and then Lennie said, "We've got to talk."

            "Yes, I know," she said in a rush.  "Look, Lennie, I'm really, really sorry.  I know I was way out of line, and it. . . "

            "Whoa, whoa, whoa!  Has Vermont lapsed into another dimension?  Maybe an alternate universe I didn't know about?"

            She leaned back in her chair and regarded him quizzically.  "What in the hell are you talking about, Lennie?"

            "Why are you apologizing to me?"

            "Are you serious?  For what happened at the station yesterday, of course."

            Lennie put his head in his hands, and she couldn't tell if he were laughing or what was going on with him.  When he looked at her again, he said, "Oh, Judith, for God's sake!  I brought you here so I could apologize to you about that."

            She blinked in surprise.  "Hunhhh?"

            "Oh, Judith. . .  Oh, geez.  I tried right away to tell you 'thank you' for what you did, but you wouldn't let me talk.  I thought you were mad at me.  I've been thinking ever since then that you're still mad at me.  And all this time, you've been thinking that I was the one who was mad?  Have I got that straight?"

            "Um, I don't know.  Now I really don't know what's going on."

            "Okay – just out of curiosity, tell me what you think you have to apologize for."

            "I screamed at you.  I created a scene.  I defied you.  I embarrassed you.  I behaved in a thoroughly ridiculous way.  And I probably can think of a few other things."

            "And of all that, what would you have done any differently?"

            She thought about that, but couldn't think of an answer.  "Well, I should have been able to think of some more gentle way of. . . "

            "You think I was in a mood for gentle?"

            "No, I didn't."

            "So, then you played it just right, didn't you?"

            "But, Lennie, I swore at you.  I told you I'd have you arrested.  I hopped on your lap, for goodness sake.  And all in public.  In a police station, no less."

            "You're just not getting it, are you?  Don't you understand that you did exactly the right thing?"

            Amazed, she stared at him.  "You're really letting me off the hook for all this?"

            "You were never on any hook to begin with.  That's an honor that belongs to me.  We both know I was completely out of control."

            "I don't think you could help it," she said honestly.

            "No, I couldn't – but you could and did."

            "So, you're saying," asked Judith, still trying to sort out the situation, "that all this is really okay?"

            "It might be if you'd ever let me get on with my apologizing."

            This embarrassed her.  "Don't, Lennie, please.  You've said it enough."

            "I wasn't thinking of saying anything more.  There are other ways of apologizing, you know."

            "Other ways?" asked Judith vaguely, still confused about just had gone on between them.  "What do you mean?"

            He sighed and took her hands across the table.  "You know?  I was right from Day One – you really are a lot of trouble."

                                                The End

_If you would like to read more about Judith, this time from Lennie's POV, a semi-sequel to this story is also posted here at FanFiction.net.  It is titled "It Depends on What You Pay."_


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